Betrayal of Heroes
by Dracones
Summary: Spyro and Cynder find what they never expected upon their return to Warfang. Peace, if it ever existed, was short-lived; even after fixing the planet, you can't fix people, as the new couple learn to their dismay. Now, tales of rescues and retreats take their place in the Chronicler's stories of the world, as friends and lovers fight for their lives and those of others. Book 1/6.
1. Chapter 1

The Legend of Spyro: Series: Below Zero.

Book One: Betrayal of Heroes.

**Note: This will, I think, be rated M. Not for this first chapter, but for later ones. Also, note that I am only having this at M now for consistancy's sake. This being a six-book series, I am certain that the content of the second and later books will be rated M. I wouldn't want people who only search K-T to wonder where the promised rest of this series had gone. However, I still need a valid reason for this to be rated M, and will include some torture that wasn't in the original plan, as well as possible limes (no way am I confident with full-blown lemons). However, that is only a possibility, and one that I am uncertain on implementing. Torture I can do. Torture I can imagine. Being personally inexperienced in the romance department, simple things like kisses and confessions are a stretch for me. Writing lemons would be so far out of my comfort zone I might as well be on Mars without a spacesuit. Sorry, if you're that sort of person.**

**Another note: As will be obvious pretty soon, this is a SpyroxCynder fanfic. As will become obvious not quite so soon, this is not going along a normal path for a fanfic. It will take roughly twenty years (the plot's timeframe) before a satisfactory conclusion is reached. Hopefully I won't take that long to write the thing, but I will do my best to write it. Also, some of the content, I believe, is unique, and it will revisit and develop a few old guys as well as bring in new ones, but that's quite a way into the future.**

**Yet another note: The series will be set out like this:**

Legend of Spyro: Below Zero: Series.

Six books, eleven chapters in each. Split into two sort of trilogies.

Trilogy 1: Shifting Fortunes.

BOOK 1: BETRAYAL OF HEROES, BOOK 2: PROGRESSION TO REVELATION, BOOK 3: RECOVERY OF THE RETREATED.

Trilogy 2: Collaborative Glory.

BOOK 4: UNITED WE FALL, BOOK 5: DIVIDED WE STAND, and BOOK 6: TOGETHER WE CONQUER.

* * *

BETRAYAL OF HEROES.

* * *

Chapter One: 'After' the war.

**Revitalise: give new life and vitality to.**

Joy.

Happiness, relief, every pleasant emotion they felt, all compressed into a single three-letter word as the purple and black dragons soared through the airs above a calm valley. Joy coursing through both Spyro and Cynder was the only thing they cared to feel as they chased and whirled, riding the currents of the wind that buffeted them. Spyro turned and twisted, trying to keep up with Cynder's elegant movements, but she always seemed just out of his reach. He didn't mind, content to just follow for once in his hectic life.

She angled her wings, gliding down; he narrowed his, speeding downwards like an arrow. She barrel-rolled off to the sides, he copied, allowing a laugh to escape his jaws. She laughed too, the sounds echoing around the serene landscape whilst the young dragons, scarred by war, enjoyed themselves for the first time in too long.

Spyro had heard what she'd said perfectly after the defeat of Malefor, and knew that he felt the same. His worries about her response to his own confession were nil; he knew her, and she would never say something like that without cause. Plus, he could see it clearly in her eyes now; the love she held for him was easily visible as she glanced back, smiling, still in flight, and he smiled back, certain that his own eyes reflected the feelings in full.

He flapped his wings harder, trying to catch up, but she was faster. She always had been, but at least with the chains she was restrained somewhat.

The chains!

Spyro halted in mid-flight, hovering, and hesitantly felt where the necklace had used to be with his paw. It flickered into existence, as did Cynder's at the same time. But they obviously had no effect any more, as Cynder was already out of the previous range of effect as well. In fact, she too was hovering, almost above the ground, and looking at her own serpent necklace. It gave him the chance to catch up to her, as she was distracted looking at the now-lifeless, dull eyes of the coiled serpent. He did so, but went past, intending to land. He descended, landing on a ridge just below her, which, he noted, was above one of the waterfalls of Avalar Valley. She landed next to him a second later, seemingly about to say something, but he cut her off with the wave of a paw, wanting to tell her what he felt now in light of the perfect scenery before them.

He took a deep breath, trying to build up the courage to say what he'd wanted to for a long while. Though it might not be the perfect time, when they had only just landed, it was the perfect location, and Spyro would take the chance when it was given. He breathed deeply to gather his courage, and spoke.

"Cynder, I want to tell you this now, in reply to what you said in the core of the earth. I love you too, more than I ever could anyone else, or would ever want to. I love you more than the moon, the sun, this whole universe. I would have let the world be destroyed by Malefor if it would keep you safe and happy, and I would destroy it myself if it had the same affect. I love you, Cynder." As he spoke, happiness revealed itself all over Cynder's face, growing with every word. By the end of it, she was beaming, and she stepped closer to him as he went on as well, ending up pressed against his side, her eyes meeting his.

"I'm not quite sure what I can say to that," she grinned, "But I love you too." She leant forwards, as did he, and their necks seemed, without command, to wrap around each other on instinct.

Spyro whispered gently into her ear, "That's all you needed to say," before making sure to tighten the grip his neck had around hers and closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he found himself to be looking at the necklace that encircled her neck, and, his eyes darting sideways, he found that she had mirrored his actions perfectly and was staring at the band around his own throat. He almost laughed at the coincidence, before withdrawing his head and touching his nose to hers. She smiled slightly, then looked down.

"Well, that's one pressing issue resolved, but a few more to follow. Should we get rid of these?" She gestured to the bands around their necks, but Spyro shook his head.

"No, I like what they represent between us." Cynder nodded, deep in thought, or so she seemed.

You're right," she said. "We keep them, then, as a physical representation of both our love and the bond between us?" He nodded.

"For good and for bad."

"For now and for then."

"For pride and for punishment."

"For life and for love."

"For Unity."

"For Ever."

Then, in unison, they both said "And for our future together."

Grinning, the pair leant in more, if that was even possible, and they each tried to lick the other on the snout at the same time, ending up frozen in shock as their tongues met in the middle. They remained like that for a few seconds, Spyro just glancing around nervously, suddenly self-conscious of anyone seeing them, before looking back and seeing Cynder's eyes filled with mirth. Their tongues retracted, as each of them tried to hold off a bout of laughter at the predicament they were in.

Neither succeeded. Cynder could not stave off a small giggle; Spyro's utter shock that she'd made such a sound pushed him over the edge too, and seconds later the couple were laughing and rolling on the floor. Spyro came dangerously close to falling off the ever-present cliff at one point; his confused antics as he tried to regain his balance rendered Cynder incapable of helping him either, until he righted himself, only to laugh at her laughing. The pair continued for a good few minutes after that, until eventually stopping, as it was getting dark, and they had both caught sight of the cheetah village in Avalar. In an unspoken question, they looked at each other, before they nodded, Spyro, then, more reluctantly, Cynder, and began to gently glide downwards towards the wooden cluster of huts.

The air caressed Spyro's wings gently now, not buffeting as it was before, as he and Cynder flew side-by-side, something else beginning to caress Spyro's right wing as Cynder timed her wingbeats with his and moved slightly closer. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, but a tempting thought passed through his mind, and he couldn't resist quickly speeding up, as his smile turned to a grin.

She moved faster too, putting on a burst of speed greater than his own and quickly catching up, trying to keep their wings in contact. He narrowed his eyes playfully, then his wings, diving downwards, but within seconds she was back at his side, wingbeats in time as they pulled up, and laughing again. It became a game; he would try to stop her from catching him; she would, invariably, succeed in catching him and matching him within a couple of wingbeats, at which point he would try again.

When it became obvious that he would not manage to throw her off, and they were getting extremely close to the village, Spyro stopped dodging, allowing her to come to his side again. She had a frustrated, yet playful, look on her face; his was one of mischeif, and of slight apology, but they didn't put voice to their thoughts, communicating them instead in a strange series of glares, paw motions, and lip movements, culminating in a couple of wide smiles as the dragons impacted the ground in front of the village's gate.

Archers rose, bows ready, but aiming down, and smiles momentarily appeared on their faces as they recognised the two who had helped them previously. However, they seemed nervous, and the smiles were quick to vanish again as a few of the Cheetahs looked behind them. They quickly glanced back as the gates-newly rebuilt since the Grublin attack-opened, and Cheif Prowlus strode out, two others with swords drawn following him.

Spyro's face fell momentarily, before picking up a neutral expression and studying the leader of the Cheetahs. Prowlus was almost stalking up to them, cautious, yet there was hope in his eyes, as well as fear. It was an extremely strange combination.

Cynder appeared slightly concerned, eyeing the swords, and the archers' arrows, as well as Prowlus. Her emerald eyes flickered around as fast as he knew her claws could, taking everything in. In contrast, Spyro was just looking directly towards Prowlus, who was glancing between him and Cynder. A tense moment passed as Prowlus stopped before them.

"Are you friends or foes of the Cheetah Tribes?" Prowlus intoned, in a deep, gruff voice, much unlike that of Hunter. Spyro stepped forwards, but Cynder cut off what he had intended to say.

As Cynder stalked towards Prowlus, the Cheetah archers aimed their bows at her, but she continued regardless. "Are you asking that again? After we already proved our trustworthyness to you last time we were here? After we saved Meadow? After we defended Warfang? After we defeated the Golem? Practically incapacitated the Destroyer? Drove Malefor to the centre of the world? Defeated him as it was being ripped apart? And then Spyro pulled the whole thing back together again?!" She snorted. "Are we working for Malefor or aren't we, and just how obvious is the answer to that question?"

She was obviously extremely irate and frustrated, and Prowlus took a step away from her, taken aback, but Spyro jumped to her side, pressing himself against her and speaking quietly next to her ear, noting the pleasurable sensation he derived from being so close to his love and reminding himself to replicate the motion at more conveniant times later.

"Cynder, there's no need to blame them. They don't know what happened there; and if they did, they would have the right to be worried, as we were each corrupted by darkness at one point on that journey. Just remember that all we need is each other now, whatever others think or suspect, and we can prove what they think wrong if it is so. That's all we need to do, my love, so just relax and explain what transpired between now and the last time we saw them. That's all we need to calm things down, and shouting, unfortunately, doesn't create a peaceful and accepted atmosphere for an already suspicious meeting."

Cynder growled gently in response, but the growl died away with a sigh as she leant into him more, letting his body support hers momentarily. She twisted her neck around so that her eyes were facing his, and whispered her own reply.

"I know, and I'm sorry. It's just irritating when we've done so much to help people like these everywhere and they are doubting whether we want to assist them or their greatest, and now dead-thanks to us, I might add-enemy!" She rubbed her cheek against his, calmingly, and gently licked his neck. "But I will try to calm down now, I promise."

He nodded, the motion pushing her snout above his as he turned his head towards hers. "I ask no more of you than that." She nodded too, and as she did so, their noses made contact, staring into each other's eyes again, but closer than before. They were almost kissing; upon that realisation, Spyro jerked his head back, glancing towards the cheetahs, some of which were looking on in disbelief, some in suspicion, and some in acceptance. Spyro spoke to Prowlus, who was one of the former group, and Cynder too turned to face the cheif.

"No, Cheif Prowlus, we are not your enemies. In fact, we have just returned victorious from the Burned Lands, where we defeated the Dark Master, though nonetheless we bring grim news. Ignitus sacrificed himself in order to get us through the fires that guarded Malefor's lair from view." Prowlus recoiled slightly, as a tear began to build up in Spyro's eye as he remembered the great leader that had taught him. When the tear escaped the iris, Cynder looked at him with pity and understanding, before gently licking the tear away as it trailed down his cheek. She pressed her body to his, and the physical and mental suppoprt allowed him to resist more tears flowing from then on.

A pawstep thudded in front of Spyro, the only thing that made him remember the Cheetahs through his grief over Ignitus and the closeness of Cynder. He jerked his head upwards to see the Cheetah cheif smiling.

"I have seen neither tears nor sympathy from any servant of the Dark Master, and never had any indication of you being enemies. Hence, you are friends." Spyro bowed his head to the tough cheetah leader, not knowing himself why he did it, but feeling, somehow, that it was the right thing to do. Cynder too inclined her head to Prowlus.

Even more awkwardly and surprisingly, were that possible, Prowlus bowed to them in return, with the words, "You are the killers of the Dark Master, and deserve my respect; possibly, more than I do yours. You may stay the night in our village if you wish. I believe Meadow is willing to provide for you; space, food, and so on. He has already expressed his gratitude to you on a number of occasions, and I am sure he would be honoured to repay what he considers his heartfelt debt of gratitude."

Spyro glanced to Cynder, who likewise looked at him, and they both nodded. He was the one to speak. "I believe that we shall be grateful to take him up on such an offer, were it indeed offered. Thank you, chief, for the hospitality of both you and your clan." Behind Prowlus, the gates could be seen to be quickly swinging open, pulled by quick and eager hands.

"No, young dragons, thank you. Hospitality is the least we can give, when you saved our lives and our world." Though his words were welcoming, there was still some restraint in his eyes. Spyro got the impression that Prowlus would never be entirely willing to allow people outside of his clan to associate with himself and the rest of the Cheetahs, but would do it nonetheless out of gratitude.

The cheif stepped aside, waving an arm to usher them through into the village. Many of the Cheetahs stood down from their positions on the walls, congratulating the two young heroes. Spyro couldn't help but think of Sparx basking in the attention; it forced a small laugh out of him, imagining the dragonfly's antics at yet another group praising them. What the dragonfly was doing back at Warfang, Spyro didn't dare to guess. Probably boasting about how his brother had saved the world yet again.

But strangely, Spyro was zoned out from the praises and congratulations. The world was safe; in the mind of the still-young dragon, that meant he had some time to take off. He wanted to spend time in peace, undisturbed by others, when the simple smiles of his friends were far superior to any praises from strangers.

Speaking of friends, Cynder, looking similarly awkward, nudged his flank, gesturing off to his right paw/wing side. Leaning in the entrance to a hut, a wooden ctutch under one arm and a smile on his face, was Meadow.

A few 'excuse me's from Spyro and a simple sneaking into the shadows trick from Cynder and they were both out of what was fast becoming a throng of Cheetahs.

"Welcome Spyro, Cynder. As long as it and I stand, my house is yours if you wish it to be." Spyro grinned at the cheetah's words.

"Prowlus already made that offer in your stead, but I am again delighted to say that I accept your offer, Meadow." A grin spread across Meadow's face as well, and the corner of Cynder's mouth twitched upwards noticeably.

"Shall we enter?" Spyro glanced around the village, where a lot of the villagers were congregating around huts and talking amongst themselves, glancing in their direction. He sighed, already tired of the attention; and already tired from the trip.

Cynder answered for him. "I think so, yes. Spyro needs to rest by the looks of things." Meadow paused, looking at the purple dragon, who only nodded, then entered the hut, gesturing for the dragons to follow. They did so, side by side, as Cynder was obviously concerned enough to look out for him like that.

It was a simple hut; only one room, with a work surface to one side, a cushioned area of floor around a sofa, and a bed to the side of that.

Meadow took a place on the floor, gesturing them to the sofa and the bed. "You two look tired; as much as I would love to hear the tales of your adventures, you should rest first. The least I can do is sleep on the floor to give you two some room for comfort." Both dragons looked at the bed, then the sofa, the former of which was obviously the more comfortable.

They both took one step towards the sofa, deciding to give the other more comfort than themselves.

They looked at each other, slight amusement in their eyes.

Cynder broke eye contact and leapt forwards, landing on the sofa and leaving Spyro both the bed and speechless. She spoke up from her perch. "Spyro, you're the tired one by the looks of things. Take the bed. You need it."

There was nothing he could say; he simply nodded, heading for the aforementioned item of furniture. As he passeed Meadow, he muttered an indistinct 'thank you,' and recieved a nod in return. He climbed onto the bed; it was soft and warm, and the only thing he could recall doing was looking up at Cynder, who was looking across at him, saying a quiet goodnight and mouthing the words 'I love you' before collapsing to the bed and falling asleep.

* * *

**End A.N: One thing I like about this chapter is that it has one aspect that as far as I know, is unique to me; the Serpant collars, magic removed, serving as wedding rings of some description. I only saw them mentioned once before in an after DotD fanfic; the author (dragonshina, a lot of credit to her for some of the inspiration!) just had them removed and thought no more of it. I wanted to make a change from the norm early on, and I'm pretty damn certain that this is only one of many to come. I can't wait to reveal some of these concepts... Just glad I've got them planned out, or I might forget them! And that would truly be a tragedy!**

**A note on chapter length: These will not be any set length chapters, with a target of a certain word count. Length will vary with content. From what I can see, several real authors do this, for example, author of the Irish book of the decade, Derek Landy, the author of the awesome fantasy-horror-adventure series Skulduggery Pleasant. Some of his chapters are less than a page, yet amongst the most important in the book. The next will be a shorter one is basically what I'm saying. And there will be one or two very short ones in the future.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Departure and Travels.

**Liberate: 1. set free 2. free from traditional ideas about social behaviour.**

When he awoke, the first thing Spyro felt was a warm sensation across his side and partially over his back. In his sleepy state, he attributed it to the blanket that had been draped over him, but quickly disposed of that theory upon noting the scaly texture of the object that was heating him up. He puzzled over it for a second, before realising what it was.

Cynder.

Rather than open his eyes and risk being noted as awake, Spyro instead moved slightly towards the scales on an instinct. The smooth-scaled shape replicated the motion, and he risked a slight opening of his left eye, which was almost pressed to the mattress, but could see slightly.

Black scales met his gaze, and he sighed, knowing of only one dragon who looked like that; the only one he would ever want to be with in such a manner. As he sunk, comforted, back into drowsiness, a finger prodded the back of his head. He almost leapt up, held back only by Cynder's wing, which was still held over him. He relaxed back into her embrace when he saw that it was Meadow, looking annoyed. Spyro raised the draconic equivalent of an eyebrow. Cynder stirred slightly, but he careingly stroked her forehead with his paw, bringing her again to peaceful sleep.

"If you'd told me about this before," the Cheetah remarked dryly, "I could have avoided a night on the floor in favour of the sofa!" But there was a hint of playful teasing in his voice. "How long has this been going on?"

The purple dragon shrugged awkwardly. "I was asleep, so don't ask me. It depends on when she crawled over here; I didn't know this would happen."

"No, I mean, you two being together. Or at least I presume that's what this means. Correct me if I'm wrong?"

"In that case, sometime yesterday. On the top of a waterfall. Now can I please get some more sleep?"

"It's almost midday. You've been asleep for hours."

"Pulling the world back together takes a lot of energy, Meadow. I'll be up sooner or later." The dragon's head practically collapsed onto the bed again, but considerably nearer Cynder's than before.

"Youth," Meadow sighed, but Spyro wasn't entirely asleep yet.

"You're not that old, and I don't feel too young anymore," he mumbled.

Meadow responded, "You'd be surprised," but not much could surprise the purple dragon anymore, as he had gone straight back to sleep.

* * *

Several hours later, Spyro awoke again, to find the comforting warmth gone. Perhaps that was what had awoken him; Cynder was just next to the bed still, stretching out stiff muscles. He felt the need to do the same, and shrugged off the thin covers with a wave of his wings before jumping down next to her.

She flinched away slightly, turning on a battle instinct, then blinked apologetically when she saw it was him. He smiled, wordlessly accepting the apology, and she mirrored his expression before turning to Meadow, who seemed to be chopping herbs on the work surface for some reason, but then looked back to them.

"I presume you're hungry? I'm unsure as to what exactly dragons eat, but my presumption is that you can't get everything from crystals. Why else would you have claws and teeth? You have to hunt, that is probably why. Hence, I have cooked some venison steaks with thyme and rosemary, to see what you think of it." Spyro sniffed, curiously. There was a strong, pleasant scent in the air, which he had not smelt before, and it was coming from a couple of plates in front of Meadow. The Cheetah picked them up, moving them onto a low table.

"It smells nice, Meadow, so I'd presume it's good for dragons to eat. However, I must ask; what sort of creature is a Venison?" Meadow snorted, almost laughing, and Cynder released a rare giggle to his side. He stared, shocked. "Okay, three things are surprising me here. Number one, we're eating an animal I've never heard of. Number two, Cynder, it seems that you have heard of it. And number three, YOU GIGGLED. For the second time in two days. I never expected that!"

Her reply, when it came, was hard to understand; unlike most things she did, it was jerking, with pauses quite regularly. "Spyro, I've eaten venison before, and it's a technical term for the meat from a deer. I just found if good to laugh, and funny that you didn't know."

"Good to giggle, you mean," Spyro teased, and she couldn't deny it.

* * *

The venison, once he'd found out what it was and had an argument with Meadow over why it wasn't just called deer, was extremely flavourable, though not as reviving as crystals. However, the cheetah had informed him that real food took slightly longer to take effect than crystals did, but the effect itself was greater, and by the time they were ready to leave the village, he felt more energised than any of the crystals had ever caused him to feel.

Prowlus had come with an escort of what must have been half the village, to formally see them off before they departed for Warfang.

'I have sent a summons for Hunter,' the cheif had said, 'And he should have departed Warfang by the time you arrive. If you have any messages for him, I shall make sure to pass them on.'

Cynder and Spyro had had a quiet talk, before saying, 'Tell him thank you for all he's done for us.' Prowlus had nodded, the two dragons had said farewell to Meadow, and they were off!

Now, they flew again, this time simply racing one another. Cynder had the advantage in both agility and speed, but Spyro had the odd chance to catch up when she would decide to hang back and taunt him. A Comet Dash would get him almost close enough to grab, but she knew the range of his dashes, and he decelerated after each, so it was rare that she would misjudge and allow him to actually catch her.

The one time he had, he had Comet Dashed above her and let himself fall, wings shut, and landed on her wing joints. Spyro immediately let go, in fear of sending them both into a freefall to the ground, then spiraled ahead of her and looked back, blocking her path. She grinned, sped towards him, barrel-rolled, and dived under and past him as he looked on in amazement.

He didn't even get close after that.

"Cynder!" Spyro yelled after her, causing her to turn her head sharply in mid-air. "I give up! You're too fast for me!" The quite distant black form whirled quickly, and grew several times bigger over the course of less than a minute as she sped towards him.

She flared her wings, halting her speedy flight. "So, you've seen sense? You know you won't catch me?"

"Not in a race," he replied, "But you know I'll always be there to catch you when you fall." He came level with her, the pair staring into each others' eyes. Cynder smiled at his words, wordlessly nodding at his admittance of defeat, a light of love entering her bright green eyes at his declaration. They flew side by side from then on, looking down and enjoying the scenery.

They were certainly above the land that they had travelled under when going through the Forbidden Passage, and it would definately be a longer journey. They were flying over a great maze of valleys, ridges, forests and rivers stretching as far as the eye could see, apart from well behind them, where the mountain of Malefor rose up from the Burned-and somehow still burning-Lands.

But their eyes were forwards and downwards, facing towards Warfang's location, which the internal sense of direction all dragons held directed them to. It was, as Spyro recalled, just outside of the cluster of roughly twenty valleys that they now soared over at great height. The views were stunning.

A herd of deer-or Venison, as he spontaneously decided to call them-drank from a large lake that lay below them, nestled into a smaller valley. Some of the Venison jumped back and snorted, surprised, when the reflections of the two dragons appeared in front of them, bolting back to a nearby wood. Both Spyro and Cynder laughed at their antics, feeling freer than ever before as they swooped downwards, pursuing the fleeing forms and pretending to attack, not for hunting, but for sheer enjoyment. Spyro even let out a cry of 'Flee, foolish Venison!' which Cynder laughed heartily at.

They then flew on, leaving a bewildered herd of creatures that probably didn't know quite what had happened, especially one stag that Cynder had jumped out of the Shadow right next to. It had been a humorous experience, overall.

The seconds to minutes to hours passed peacefully as the dragons flew, similar occasions to that with the Venison occuring quite regularly. One included a group of ravens, which Spyro learned was called a parliament. But it wasn't a very organised parliament; they scattered in every direction at the sight of the dragons.

Another indident came when Spyro mistimed a wingbeat in a downdraft, sending him plummeting towards the water of a lake. Despite Cynder's efforts to stop him, which he dodged, Spyro hit the water with a great splash and held his breath, keeping himself underwater with strong pawstrokes. Ten seconds or so later, she entered too, encased in a sphere of wind and glaring at him, frustrated. He grinned, entering the cocoon of wind that supplied them with adequate air, and the couple burst out of the water flying.

By the end of the day, they had landed on a flat plateau, to watch the sun set. A particularly large ridge lay to the west at that point, and the flaming orb perfectly sillhouetted a tree that stood on its crest. Spyro and Cynder lay side by side, scales touching, leaning on one another, tails and necks twined together, as the shadow of the coming night rose towards them, the sun sinking lower.

And the last of the light glinted in their eyes, illuminated their horns, then vanished from the scene altogether.

But the scene remained, the two young lovers lying in a sweet and warm embrace for the rest of the long night.

* * *

The purple dragon would have been happy to remain where he was forever. But when Cynder twisted her head under his, licking his chin, he moved in response, nuzzling her cheek. Their heads pushed against each other, rubbing, sometimes with force, sometimes gently. They didn't know why, but it was quite an intimate demonstration of affection between the two.

But they both paused when their heads slipped from position and they found themselves eye to eye, nose to nose; lips to lips. Spyro was both both shocked and nervous, and he detected the same emotions in Cynder's eyes, with two slight additions.

Anticipation and love.

She leaned forwards, crushing their lips together even more. A pleasant sensation flooded him, and he pressed his lips towards her too, not caring for the awkwardness and inexperience he felt at the situation. He could feel her smiling, and he smiled too. Eyes open all the time, each was lost in those of the other, and in the closeness of the other. The now-lit plateau was a memory to them, and they knew nothing but what they were doing.

Nor did they know exactly what they were doing anyway. Which was why Spyro muttered awkwardly against her lips, "What now?"

But she was just as much at a loss as he. "I don't know. You don't exactly learn much about kissing under the rule of Malefor, nor whilst at war."

"Same here. Raised by dragonflies, they don't talk about that sort of thing much, and even if you spot the odd demonstration it's hard to see, due to the size difference. And I can't say the Guardians were too vocal on that topic."

"No, they weren't, were they? But we really should get back to them. Warfang is on the horizon."

Spyro glanced around, to see that she was indeed right. He must have missed it in the darkness of dusk. Towers and turrets rose into the sky a few miles away, out of the range of valleys. And, from what his eyes could see at such a range, there were several dragons assembled on the walls; more than he had ever seen before.

Wordlessly, they both nodded, ran towards the edge of the plateau, and leapt off, flying as fast as he could (Cynder was slowing herself) towards the great city.

* * *

**This is where the plot gets started.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Suspicions.

**Authority: 1. the power to give orders and make people obey you 2. a person or organisation that has official power 3. recognised knowledge or expertise 4. a person or book that is trusted as a source of knowledge.**

Walls stretched a hundred feet into the sky, proudly guarding the city. Towers and buildings reached even higher, carved quite delicately on the outside by the paws of moles. Above it all loomed the Warfang Temple, in all it's war-battered splendour. And populating the city, it seemed, were dozens of dragons that Spyro had never seen before. It gladdened him to see the Dragon City being used for its actual purpose; a city for dragons. But he did wonder where they had come from as he and Cynder soared over the walls.

It seemed impossible that so many dragons had survived Dark Cynder's hunts, Gaul's apes' rampages and Malefor's homicidal tendencies. The grublins he could understand, the pathetic little things, but the rest would have posed a large challenge to anyone. But they had survived, it seemed.

He was so amazed at that simple fact that he barely even looked at the dragons themselves, his observational skills obviously not being quite up to par with Cynder's. She was staring at each and every one intently, and there was puzzlement written all over her features. But Spyro was oblivious, staring ahead to the Warfang Dragon Temple, where, surely, Sparx and the Guardians-the remaining Guardians-would await them.

The towering temple rose many levels, but the very tops of it had had all their exterior walls smashed in by the Golem's assaults. It was a miracle that the building had remained structurally secure enough to remain standing. The Golem evidently hadn't thought too much about easier ways to destroy the Temple, and the two young dragons who had been in it. One hit to one supporting pillar or corner...

But the temple was still standing, moles working at repairing the damage on scaffolding made of wooden planks. At the entrance to the temple, which was left intact, stood a single one of the Guardians. Cynder, deep in thought, noticed and shot Spyro a meaningful glance, which quickly turned to an exasperated one as he shot off at his fastest speed towards the ground near the entrance.

She followed behind, making Spyro turn in mid-air, wondering where she was. He gestured for her to hurry up, and she complied, mentally shaking her head. They landed together, and walked up to Cyril, who had a surprised look on his face. But he quickly wiped it off and glanced behind him, as if looking for someone or something, before facing them again, on his face a wide smile.

"Spyro, Cynder! It is my great honour to welcome you to Warfang again, especially in light of your great victory! Unfortunately, the Temple is undergoing major rebuilding work at the moment, and the underground lodgings are full of families who lost their homes in the Golem's rampage. You shall have to take temporary lodging somewhere, which I shall have sorted out for you. I suspect you must be tired; if you'll follow me, I believe there's a partially broken house down this way. The repair work has got it watertight, but the family are considering relocating to a different location now that the lands are safe from Malefor, and haven't moved back in." Spyro trailed after the Ice dragon as he began to head off into the city, but Cynder took a while of glancing around before continuing.

Spyro, content to follow the lead of his former teacher, voiced Cynder's thoughts before she could, after an observation. "Hey Cyril, you were talking almost as fast as Volteer there! Speaking of which, where are he and Terrador? And Sparx, I want to see him again."

"My thoughts exactly," Cynder remarked, looking at Cyril with slightly narrowed eyes. "I'd have presumed they'd be here to meet us, especially Sparx, as he's to lazy to do anything else." She flashed a grin at Spyro at the last part, and he rolled his eyes, knowing of the emnity between the two, stemming from Sparx's distrust of the black dragoness.

But Spyro turned around too quickly to see Cynder look to Cyril again, waiting for an answer, and her own distrust flaring up in her eyes.

The reply from the Ice guardian, when it came, was quick and simple, surely not warranting the amount of time it did to be said. "They are assisting in the repairs elsewhere."

During the short conversation, they had wandered a short while through the wide streets of Warfang, and Cyril turned down another street as Cynder pointed something else out, glancing around her all the while.

"Why not at the Temple? Surely that's most important, and can't they get all these new dragons lining the walls to do it instead? Where did they come from, anyway?"

But Cyril just glanced around, getting his bearings, and plunged into a tall house that looked like a Golem had stubbed its toe on the doorstep, (and the door,) kicked through both the side walls, and then slapped the back wall as well.

Put simply, it was a mess, with more entrances than the Destroyer. Than there had been in the Destroyer. _Whatever._

Cyril's body was still somehow managing to block their view in anyway. He was speaking, and he seemed angry. Obviously, there were people in there, and he wasn't pleased with them, but Spyro couldn't make out the words used.

Cynder edged up to him, eyes turned to Cyril cautiously, but before she could speak, Cyril turned, a look of irritation passing over his face. Spyro stepped forwards, with a loving smile in Cynder's direction that she could not help but return, before raising his eyeridges at Cyril, asking for an explanation. Cynder sighed to herself behind him, not going to be talking to Spyro about what she'd observed when Cyril was there too. She turned towards the Guardian as he began his explanation.

"A group of looters were attempting to take the possessions of the family who lives here out, for themselves. So-"

"So you lectured them and let them walk away?" Cynder spat. Cyril glared at her.

"Do you think that people don't deserve second chances, Cynder? That notwithstanding, they are probably desperate in the wake of such destruction. Maybe they had lost their home. I don't know, but if so, it is simply that desperate times call for desperate measures, correct?" Cyril allowed for no argument, turning and beckoning with his tail for them to enter the house after him.

Cynder followed Spyro, who sent a concerned glance back at her, probably concerned after the blatant reference to her past. She smiled slightly, to show that it was alright, and they entered the building.

Instincts from wartimes sprung up as she glanced around. The conspicuous lack of walls and exposure on all sides automatically put both Spyro and Cynder on edge.

Looking here and there, Spyro saw that there was quite a lot of rubble spread across the floor. Some items of furniture remained-a small table, some chairs-but the rest were likely covered by the rock. Some stairs led upwards, to one of the three higher levels visible from outside. Probably, there would be more comfortable items of furniture there, as well as an added level of privacy (at least from street level).

"This should be adequate, I believe? I acknowledge the fact that it may not be entirely secure, but you shall most likely be fine, even if something does go amiss, with the experience you have. You deserve, however, to rest up well. You have doubtlessly been travelling a long time; I shall leave you now. I hope you appreciate these temporary accommodations. As soon as the Temple is repaired, you shall have better ones, I assure you."

"Speaking of the Temple, will you inform Terrador and Volteer of our location? I'm sure they would like to see us," Cynder said. Spyro nodded in agreement.

Cyril blinked. "I certainly will, young ones. Now, farewell. I shall assist my fellow guardians in the repairs of the Temple."

He turned to go, but Cynder called, "Wait!" When Cyril turned, a frown on his face, she continued, "I thought it was weird that you didn't ask, so you must already know somehow," here, she tilted her head, staring hard, "but Ignitus sacrificed himself in order to get us through the Belt of Fire and into the Burned Lands."

Here Spyro bowed his head, mourning the great leader; he missed Cyril's reaction; a raise of the eyebrows, a hint of a smirk appearing on his lips and a glint of the eyes, before the Ice guardian too hung his head, and when he looked up again, and Spyro saw him, the look on his face was of pure anguish and despair.

Cynder slowly blinked, sadness in her posture, but her eyes were confused, and she narrowed them slightly at Cyril before he took his leave.

Spyro, ignorant to the silent confrontation and the lack of mourning from Cyril, headed for the stairway. "Hopefully there'll be someplace more comfortable up here," he called over to her. "Coming?"

She nodded, sighing, and bounded over to him. They cautiously ascended, accompanied by slight vibrations from the building. Like the Temple, Cynder realised, this house was unstable due to the lack of walls.

_Un_like the Temple, it didn't have scaffolding supporting it.

They came to a unanimous decision to remain downstairs.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs again, and looked around the single floor they had access to, Cynder said, "I don't think this place had looters." At Spyro's puzzled expression, she gestured around the room with her tail. "The furniture is in places away from the rubble, some of it showing signs of being cleaned. That shows that people have gone to an effort to make this as homely as they can, unlike looters. Also, no signs point to anything having been removed by any looters. Look on that table," she pointed out, "there are figurines carved out of wood there that must have some value, as well as an ornate vase. All of which looters would at least have disturbed, and most likely snuck out, even with Cyril watching."

Spyro looked around, finding nothing in the room to contradict what she had said. "Maybe they had only just entered," he guessed. "But if they had, how would Cyril know?"

"He wouldn't," Cynder said, answering the slightly retorical question. "So now we wonder, why did he lie to us? And why did he send us here, rather than more secure accommodation?"

Spyro frowned. "The Temple's destroyed mostly, and the other houses are all full, Cyril said."

"When all those houses were on fire during the siege, Spyro, only one had a family in it calling for help. In a war-torn city, especially one this big, there are bound to be some safe, secure homes." A mole walked past outside, glancing in curiously before moving on. "Wait a minute, I'll test something," Cynder said, and leaving Spyro confused in the centre of the room, obviously deep in thought anyway, she bounded out, following the mole. "Wait! Can I ask you a question?"

The short, hairy mole nodded.

"Are any of the houses along this street empty, and if so, how would you obtain permission to live in them?"

The mole frowned. "Have you not been here long, miss? Most of Warfang's homes have been empty for years. Anyone, as far as I know, can just move in." His frown deepened. "Or at least, before all these new dragons came along, most of it was uninhabited. They've taken up most of the buildings around the walls, which were mainly un-lived in by those smart enough to know that assaults came from outside. But even here, most of these buildings will be empty."

"How long have the new dragons been here, and where did they come from? I've never seen so many all together like that."

"I believe Guardian Cyril found them somewhere, as little as two days ago. However, from what I've seen, they seem strangely loyal to him after such a short period of time.

Cynder nodded. "Thank you, you have been extremely informative. May I ask your name?"

"Hanver. And yours?"

Rather awkwardly, Cynder said, "Cynder. Thank you for your time."

Hanver froze at her name, then tilted his head, considering her. "It was a pleasure to meet you, then, Cynder. I shall remember our encounter."

He bowed his head, and she nodded back, before she headed towards the destroyed house, thinking, _what is going on?_

* * *

**What is going on indeed? Any ideas, people? Clues, hints? Suspicions? You might as well just say it, anything could happen! The next two chapters will be critical, plot-wise. And has anyone got opinions on the mole, Hanver? Where does he fit into the story? I think he'll probably just be a side character...**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: A Conformation.

**Mystify: 1. completely bewilder someone 2. make something uncertain or mysterious.**

Spyro sat in the house, waiting for Cynder to come back. He took advantage of the time to do some serious thinking, or tried to, but his mind just kept asking him questions that he couldn't answer; some relevant, some not. What could Cyril be doing? Where were Terrador and Volteer? ...Where would he find out how to properly kiss if he couldn't find them and ask them? Where had the other dragons come from? What did the moles and other creatures think of it?

The trouble was, thinking outside of a battle context was one of his weak points. With no clear aim of something to find, destroy, or rescue, and no clear obstacles in his way, his mind was much less adept at problem-solving. It was like he was used to fighting down walls, and suddenly he met an invisible one that he could neither find nor hit.

But what truly unnerved him was the fact that he had noticed none of it before Cynder had pointed it out with impeccable logic. He would have to learn to think such things himself, and to not trust so blindly those who led. It would be unusual for him, but necessary. Perhaps Cynder would help him achieve the right state of mind.

As if summoned by the thought, she burst into his field of vision from the side, startling him. "Cynder!" he yelped, shocked by her appearance. "Why not just walk in?"

But her eyes were serious. "It was a test, Spyro. A test of how easy this house was to sneak up to for an ambush, even in broad daylight. The large gaps and piles of rubble everywhere only help the ambusher. We need to get out of here before nightfall, and a mole named Hanver told me that most of the houses in this area of the city are empty, free for anyone to move into. We can talk freely there." She whirled, flashing him a slightly worried look, and he followed her out of the ruin. She led him across the road, and turned right once she met the other side. Walking past two houses, she stopped at the third. "This should do," she declared, peering into a window. "Uninhabited."

She wasted no time in leaping through the aforementioned window. Spyro too crouched on his hind legs, then sprung in.

Looking around, it was easy to see why exactly Cynder had dubbed the place 'uninhabited.' Four bare grey walls surrounded the room. A layer of dust covered the floor and not much else, as it lacked any furnishings. Their landings had sent great clouds of the stuff billowing out from around them. Cynder beat her wings in frustration, sending even more into the air around them.

A bad idea, they soon discovered, as they were snorting and sneezing for about a minute before it settled down again.

Cynder headed for the stairs, beckoning him to follow. He did so, cautious of intruding somewhere that wasn't theirs, but he reminded himself that it was uninhabited, and that they had been told it was free for anyone to live in if they so chose, and continued.

The single upstairs floor was much the same as the downstairs, but Cynder had immediately crossed over to the window, staring out at it, and he didn't get the chance to observe much more as he hurried over to her. Remembering the feeling of pressing himself against her, he moved next to her and looked out of the narrow window as well, glancing around the street. It was empty.

The two of them both stepped back, sides in contact and sending a comforting warmth through Spyro. Gazing solemnly into each other's eyes, she spoke. "We'll need to keep a lookout, but this provides a good enough view of the ambush site."

"Ambush site?!" Spyro exclaimed, shocked. Cynder rolled her eyes in an attempt to look exasperated, but the trace of a grin told him she was faking it.

"Spyro, I think I noticed a few things you didn't, and they set me on edge immediately. Did you happen to look directly at the new dragons, and compare them to one-another?" Spyro shook his head. "I thought as much. Now, I did, and I noticed two similarities across them all."

"What were they?"

"For one thing, they were all Ice dragons."

"You know Cyril, Cynder. He probably spoke to all his mighty, ancient and honourable family members, and asked them to move in. The ancestors know they have to be good for something." She shook her head.

"The second thing I noticed, from the roughly twenty that I saw, was that they were all exactly the same size. Meaning they're all from the same generation. That many ice dragons from one generation is extremely rare, judging by the birth records Malefor had managed to pilfer."

"But just because it's a rare scenario doesn't mean it can't happen, right?"

"True, but the size they all were was our size. Meaning twenty dragons, all of the same element, survived and hatched after a raid on the Temple that had made all the guardians, as far as we know, believe the whole generation but me and you had been lost."

Spyro was taken aback. "How could it have happened? Especially all Ice dragons?!"

"I have no idea, but Cyril does. The mole told me that they all seemed to show surprising loyalty to him. He must have saved them and kept them secret. Maybe to preserve the next generation of Ice dragons. But why then keep them secret?"

"I have no idea."

Cynder smirked. "You really aren't a thinker, are you?" He shrugged off the mild teasing and cut her off by rubbing her neck with his muzzle. "Spyro!"

"What? You weren't thinking too much there, I wasn't before."

"How can you compare those situations at all?"

He smirked slightly. "Now, I'm distracting you." He paused to quickly kiss her on the cheek as a demonstration. She sighed in happiness. "Then, I was distracted by observing the repairs of the city and wondering at the fact that there were dragons here at all."

Cynder sighed. "Okay, you've proven your point. Now, I'll prove mine. Cyril kept them secret so they could be his own force, his own command, his own army. He wanted power. Now, he's hidden Terrador and Volteer away, and he has power. WE stand in his way right now, which is why he put us into the most exposed house in the city. You mark my words, that place will be ambushed tonight. But we won't be there. We'll be at the Temple."

"The Temple? Isn't it full?"

Spyro's love snorted at his comment. "I doubt it. Empty houses left right and centre, and they fill up the Temple? More likely Cyril's keeping us away from where he keeps Terrador and Volteer."

"And Sparx! Remember, he wasn't there to meet us!" Cynder nodded, before continuing in a teasing tone.

"Well done, Spyro! You worked something out!" He narrowed his eyes playfully.

"It was bound to happen someday," he joked, and they shared a quick laugh.

"Maybe it'll happen again, but until then, I'll have to work out the plans myself," Cynder said in a serious tone. Spyro frowned.

"Actually, I can probably come up with a far better plan myself. Just give me a moment." Spyro paused, deep in thought. They would need to see what was in the Temple, as well as watch in case the house was ambushed. If the house wasn't ambushed, then technically they didn't have the right to go into the Temple, so they would have to watch the ambush, preferably from a window of the house they were in now, before leaving. "Okay, how about this. We watch from our windows until we see the ambush. The ambush means that the Temple will be less guarded by these dragons, and we have the right to seek shelter there, so if all's well we have a valid excuse. We sneak out, either through a window or the back door, presumably under the cover of darkness, and make our way to the Temple. When there, we distract any guards by throwing stones in the other direction, then climb the scaffolding to an entrance. We search the lower levels, rescue any prisoners, beat up guards if they do anything bad or we've already seen something bad, escape, and either come back here if we saw nothing bad or flee the city."

Spyro ended, almost gasping for breath, looking to Cynder for a verdict on the plan. She nodded.

"That was basically my plan, but with the addition of the scaffolding, and all the not destroying straight away parts. Personally, I would take an ambush as proof enough. But we might as well go with your plan."

He nodded in agreement, "Good."

Silence fell between them, a comfortable sort of silence as they leaned against one another. Then, she broke it, with the words, "I've come up with a plan of how to use the time we have in the rest of the day."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Warfang has a library, as I recall. It's a great house of knowledge of all sorts of things, especially dragons. There are a few subjects I think the both of us would like to look up."

"Such as?"

She smirked. "I'll tell you when we get there."

* * *

Later that day, or rather, evening, after they had been to the library, found what was needed, come back, and waited out the hours, they started taking shifts to watch the ruins of the house. Spyro took the first four-hour watch, seeking to make up for his failiure to notice what was happening earlier, and to give Cynder a chance to rest.

Three hours later at almost midnight, he paced over to where she lay on the cold floor. He nosed her shoulder, muttering the words, "You may want to see this."

Her eyes snapped open. "I'm ready." He nodded, and went back to the window. She got up and joined him a couple of seconds later.

To start with, it seemed to her that the street was empty, but as she peered closer out of the first floor window, she recognised that the shadows away from the torches that lit the streets were moving. After a bit, she corrected herself; things were moving in the shadows. Moving down the street, towards the ruined house. One darted outwards in front of them, to a place where it was obscured by the shadow cast by a rubble pile, and she got a good glance at it. An Ice dragon, their size, staring intently towards the ruined house.

Another flash of blue the same size was temporarily visible through a gap that went all the way through the house. It was obviously being surrounded on all sides.

Spyro, next to her, nudged her with his nose and gestured down their line of buildings. Shrouded in shadow, head, neck, and tips of claws showing from an alley opposite the ruin, was a large dragon, larger than the others.

"It must be Cyril to be that big," Spyro whispered. "He isn't at the Temple. This is the perfect time." She nodded, withdrawing her head from the window. Spyro followed suit. They headed to the other side of the room, where windows overlooked a small backroad. From there, they glided out, landing softly and moving along a route they'd scouted out after returning from the library. The route to the Temple.

Two right turns took them out of the back road, they dashed across the road in the shadows to the other side, turned right again, turned left, and walked up a road to the side of the Temple.

They beat their wings softly, ascending to the houses' rooves. A glance down showed Spyro that not a single guard was looking in their direction, the few Ice dragons that were there staring only at the street; he nodded to Cynder, signalling that they were safe, and they jumped across to the scaffolding surrounding the Temple.

The moles had done a very good job of fixing up the holes so far; where the Golem had smashed a wall open wide, Cynder and Spyro had to jump and climb quite high to get through the small gap that remained. Inside, they crept downwards, noting the fact that the interior decorations were much improved after their last visit as well. A lot less rubble clattered the stairs, and the floor was almost whole as well! Those moles really were good with their paws.

Treading lightly, Cynder led the way to the bottom level, below which they would hopefully descend into the deeper reaches. They crept across the entryway slowly, careful of alerting the guards. One sat on either side of the doorway, which currently had no doors, so the two were exposed as they crossed past them. Thankfully, the two were extremely attentive to their task.

Cynder glanced around, noticing that the darkest patch of floor, probably leading lower, was to their right. She nudged Spyro quickly in that direction; he moved quickly before entering silently. She followed, but froze in her tracks as a quite audible gasp rang out, undoubtedly from the purple dragon.

She looked back, to see one of the guards' noses twitching, head slowly swivelling. She ducked into her shadow powers, hiding herself quickly as best she could. Through the haze of dark, strangely comforting, unlike her Dark Form, she saw the dragon shrug, his companion saying something to him. The two laughed, something she hadn't expected. Shrugging herself, she followed Spyro.

Just before entering the darkness, she jumped out of the Shadow, glancing all around her. She even looked upwards, and thought she caught sight of something momentarily, up there through a crack in the ceiling. But it vanished, and Cynder descended the stairs, thinking nothing of it, and she only just cut off a gasp herself at the sight that met her eyes.

Standing next to each other, frozen, in a large layer of Ice, were Terrador and Volteer.

Within the perfectly see-through Ice, Volteer was sitting, head turned to Terrador and mouth, predictably, open. One paw was raised, pointing to a pile of parchments on a desk in front of him. Obviously, he was explaining them to Terrador.

Terrador, on the other hand, was to the side of Volteer, looking at the parchments with a raised eyeridge. That was his reaction to most things Volteer said, familiar on his face, yet still encased in Ice that could surely only have come from one, trusted source to capture both of them like that.

That source could only be Cyril.

Light was cast over the room, which was long, wide, and tall, by a golden-glowing lantern hanging from the middle of the ceiling.

Spyro was staring up at the guardians, the look on his face being one of almost total shock and horror. Cynder quietly walked over to him, investigating the frozen figures more closely. Both were entirely relaxed, just showing how treacherous the attacker must have been. And it must have been Cyril.

Cynder, knowing that neither guardian would be helped by her powers, and she would learn no more, glanced at the parchments, seeing on top of them a piece of paper, with something handwritten onto it. She looked over it, reading quickly.

_While the research I have amassed on the proposed possibility of the existence of Light dragons is extremely consistent in its conclusions and observations, even across centuries, especially in the researches and theories of Ishnare, I find myself in doubt as to the theoretical validity of such an elemental development. Though Light is constantly made out to be the extremely powerful opposite of Convexity in the documents that claim evidence, that generally being the entire premise to such a claim, it is the logical and theoretical opposite of Shadow. I therefore find it hard to conceive that this element is truly the opposing force to Convexity, and conclude that it is simply being exaggerated by any illogical witnesses in both its power and potential. However, this hypothesis has several flaws due to the relentless rumours and the quantity of supposed witnesses, which effectively turns the whole puzzle regarding Light dragons into a quagmire of compressed theories and research with no proper conclusion to be reached._

That many long words?

Volteer must have written it himself.

But no matter how much it was rambled about, the research Volteer had written of sounded intriguing. Light dragons? She picked up the sheet to see that a pile of pages of varying degrees of yellowness lay beneath. That was most likely the research. Having found the subject interesting, even with the large vocabulary, Cynder picked up the papers and tucked them under the serpent necklace that hung around her neck, along with Volteer's writings.

Cynder turned to see Spyro looking up at the Guardians still. A tear ran down his face.

She quickly left the desk and hurried to his side, pressing her body against him. The legendary purple dragon crumbled against the support, head coming to her shoulder, crying increasing, leaning a large portion of his weight onto her. Unsure of how to act in a situation like that, Cynder paused for a second, then supported his limp body with hers, curling her head around his in an embrace and whispering "It's alright" again and again.

It seemed to give a positive reaction, as eventually, the tears flowed slower, and as she unwrapped her neck from his, he gazed up at her with eyes full of gratitude, only slightly glistening from the tears now. She smiled, lowering her head to his level to kiss him, but she was interrupted by a cold feeling from behind them. It was as if a chilly breeze had blown its way into the chamber, and it was familiar.

Dangerously familiar.

She spun around, preparing to use magic already, and it was lucky she did, because her blast of Shadow Fire was the only thing there to block a flurry of Ice coming at them from the direction of the entrance.

Both magics cut out at the same time after a brief struggle, leaving Cynder breathless, while a cool and collected voice rang out in front of her, no, them, as Spyro advanced to her side.

"Well, I didn't quite get the apprentices in the same way as the masters, but not to worry. Less poetic, maybe, but I'll get you two nonetheless." Cyril grinned an unnerving grin as he advanced toward them, the two guards from above flanking him menacingly. "You know, I almost thought they were going to kiss too, what with how conveniently close they were. They really should have kept up a better guard.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Confrontation

**Permafrost: A layer of soil beneath the surface that remains below freezing point throughout the year.**

Cyril blasted Ice at the two again, forcing them to separate, and he paused, wondering which to go for. Exchanging a glance, the two nodded to each other, remembering tactics they used in the Burned Lands to defeat groups; take out the weaker ones first, isolating the stronger.

Spyro and Cynder each lunged for one of the flanking guards. The one Cynder faced shot shards of Ice at her; she used Wind and blew them back in his face. As he blinked, stunned and stung by the blunt ends of the icicles, she sank her claws into one shoulder and struck from the other side with a paw to his neck. It knocked him to the floor, and she put a claw to her neck, hoping to hold a hostage, get some answers, and refrain from killing one of few dragons still alive.

Spyro had countered Ice breath with Fire breath, and, after a power conflict, jumped over both elements and landed on the back of his opponent. He glanced over and replicated the move Cynder had done. Cyril just looked at them and shook his head.

"Let us go free and explain what's going on here," grunted Cynder, "or you've got a couple of corpses on your hands and two escaped dragons."

But the Ice guardian laughed in their faces. "What care I for servants, slaves, and spare parts? I have more at my disposal. The greater loss is on your own side; two hopeless, innocent dragons of many that have been tainted by me, killed for something beyond their control. Strange, but it's quite similar to your own story, Cynder. Unfortunately for me, you've survived. You're quite the investigator, aren't you? You think I didn't see? You think I don't have spies? You think that failed ambush was led by me, unaware? That was the Guard Captain, my second. I was stalking you, hundreds of feet up."

Cynder's mind flicked back to the glimpse of something above as she slipped towards the underground level.

"What was that visit to the library for? Oh yes, you were followed everywhere, by my best tracker. But he couldn't quite read over your shoulders, you were against a wall. Mind you, I can probably guess what you were looking up, not that I'd want to myself. Disgusting."

Both Spyro's and Cynder's mouthes fell open, cheeks darkening and eyes darting to each other. Thoughts flashed in their pupils, lined with amber and emerald irises.

Cynder instinctively snapped out a remark to switch the focus away from them, "I find it kind of strange that, though you scorned our demands for an explanation, you then gave us a quite good one anyway."

Cyril released a rare sigh. "Working as a Guardian, even a fake one, you do pick up some bad habits. But, like permafrost, the core within me has remained constant throughout."

Spyro questioned, "So, you're saying you were always evil?" Cyril's expression became a venomous glare.

"I was always destined for power!" he roared, shaking the ceiling with the magnitude of the yell.

Spyro and Cynder, as one, whacked the backs of their captives heads and pounced at the Ice dragon. Still roaring, head turned upwards, his only warning was the thuds as the guards hit the floor. But it was enough. He leapt to the side, breathing Ice Spikes that melted when they met Spyro's Comet Dash, which had originally been intended to hit Cyril in the chest.

The other use wasn't too bad, though.

Cyril slashed out, following the attack up with his claws. The move forced both Spyro and Cynder to leap backwards out of the way, before separating and closing in. The much larger Cyril made as if to leap at Cynder, but instead stepped forwards once and spun, tail slicing through the air towards both of them. Cynder ducked into shadows, Spyro burnt the tail, causing Cyril to cut off the strike.

Then, they acted. Spyro sent a bolt of electricity coursing through the air towards Cyril. He dodged, Spyro arced the bolt around, and it met shards of Ice spat as a last-second protection. More shards followed them, heading straight for him, not halted by the electricity he still fired. A meter before they would hit, Cynder slid in front of him and surrounded herself in a Cyclone. The Ice span up the swirling air currents, deflecting in all directions away when Cynder jumped out of it and quickly blasted Cyril back with a gale force Wind from her jaws. But the Ice guardian didn't fall so easily; he halted his slide, growling.

Ice swirled around his paws.

His Ice Hurricane rose quickly, forcing his body to the vertical. The swirling storm of Ice towered above the heroes, a daunting sight. Spyro winced back slightly, before quickly stepping in front of Cynder and forming his own, smaller, Ice Hurricane. Both hurled towards each other, coming together in a tremendous crash.

Cynder stood to the side, watching the two hurricanes spin around each other at great speeds. She had quickly lost sight of which one was which, and couldn't tell which was bigger, so she couldn't help Spyro. She could only watch the titanic struggle and hope that he came out on top.

But it was not to be against the Ice master. A head-on collision between the two cyclones merged them into one for a split second, but then they separated, one that was distinctly smaller being hurled away and smashing into the wall next to the entrance. The other remained in the centre, perfectly controlled.

The winds sank away from the smaller form, revealing Spyro, with a long scratch on his side. He was conscious, and attempted to struggle to his feet, Cynder dashing over to him to help him get up. But before she got there he had found his footing, leaving her to whirl and look out for Cyril.

The guardian-who was really guarding nothing now, making him a former guardian-was standing in front of them, ground beneath his paws frozen where the Ice Hurricane had been. He smiled a malicious smile. Spyro staggered up next to Cynder, tired; she shot him a concerned glance.

"Are you alright?" He shook his head.

"I've certainly been better. This might not be the best time for me to continue fighting." The vicious grin on Cyril's face became a victorious smirk.

"Unfortunately for you," he declared with a superior tone, "you can't get out!" He fired a huge cube of Ice into the entranceway, the gap at the top of the stairs that promised temporary relief from the assaults of Cyril. It filled their escape route, and the stream of liquid Ice that followed only strengthened the barrier. Spyro sagged in defeat. Cynder stepped forwards.

She spoke, quietly, sinisterly. Calmly. "Spyro, would you be so kind as to melt that for me? I believe it's my turn to take on this arrogant fool of a failed 'Guardian,' and do my best to kick him to a pulp?"

Spyro nodded, "Be careful. He's strong." She nodded, moving towards her enemy, focus and anger on her face. Spyro rested a paw on her shoulder in a strangely comforting gesture, then ran as fast as he could towards the blocking block of Ice, fire flickering in his jaws.

Cyril and Cynder walked towards each other by mutual consent, halting dangerously close.

"No threats? No angry remarks on being tracked, spied on, and betrayed? You aren't going to ask me to change?" Cynder shook her head in response to his words.

"Your actions are enough to disprove any hope of you changing. And my actions are all the threats I need."

He moved first.

A shower of Ice crystals of varied sizes sprayed themselves towards her. Her blast of wind halted them, throwing them to the floor at her feet. A blast of liquid Ice came next; she used a Cyclone, which seemed to absorb the ice, as well as suck up the shards that were on the floor. She was basically encased in an Ice Hurricane, but formed from wind originally. A grin, hidden to the outside world, appeared on her face.

She spun the Cyclone towards Cyril, who countered with his own. It was a demanding task, holding up such a spiral; she was already feeling her energy drain. Cyril, on the other hand, had already used one against Spyro; hopefully, his fatigue would give her the edge.

The whirling forces met, clashed; Cynder, momentarily, caught a glimpse of Cyril looking at her and grinning. Then, the forces came apart, and she wondered why he had seemed so... smug.

She realised when the Ice chunks that made up so much of her Cyclone began to collapse in on her. Attacked from all sides, unable to dodge, she did the only thing she could.

She curled in on herself, drew in force, and unleashed tendrils of Shadow, sticking out in every direction in an explosion of force. It blew away the Ice, but the Cyclone too, and she fell to the floor; energy drained, but uninjured.

A glance sideways told her that Spyro was steadily burning through the Ice barrier; she concentrated on Cyril again, to find him leaping forwards, claws outstretched.

Maybe his elemental magic, like hers, was drained.

Or maybe he wanted her to think that.

Nonetheless, she sidestepped, spinning around and lashing out with her tail at where he landed. The blade at the end sliced deep into his foreleg, an impeedeing wound.

Cyril growled, striking out towards her with his other paw and forcing her backwards, towards Spyro. A blast of liquid Ice was met by Shadow Fire this time, but the elemental master was more powerful, and Cynder was forced back even further. She felt a body behind her, and realised that it was one of the unconscious guards. She grasped the slack body with her tail, breathing Shadow Fire all the while, then cut it off, let out a cry, and flung the knocked out dragon in front of her.

She heard Cyril's mouth snap shut decisively.

She saw the last of the Ice Cloud billowing harmlessly.

She felt the coldness of the guard's body from feet away as the scales crystalised.

She sank into Shadow with the last of her elemental power, and she burst explosively out of it underneath Cyril's chin.

He roared in pain as her horns smashed into his jawbone and her claws went for his neck, but jumped back far and fast enough to avoid a fatal blow to the jugular. His retaliatory blow was two backhanded upward swings with his paws, which smashed the still airbourne Cynder backwards. She came to rest, drained of any elemental energy, but not physical, at the foot of the steps. At the top, Spyro was still melting the blockage. "Twenty seconds," she heard him growl. It was getting extremely thin now, and the continuous stream of fire was almost through it.

But Cyril was getting closer, and even without elemental energy, Cynder needed to stop him, or he might reinforce the barrier, and then they'd never get out. Spyro too had limited energy to keep up the fire.

She leapt upwards, expanding her wings and flying in the quite tall room. It would give her more mavoeuverability in the short fight that was to come.

Cyril saw how close Spyro was to breaking through and charged, but Cynder was ready. Diving for his vulnerable eyes caused him to halt and duck his head; when she peeled off to the side, he fired a line of Ice shards towards her flying form. She executed a tight backwards flip, curling over them and catching Cyril by surprise. Claws outstretched, she soared towards his neck. He flailed at Cynder with a wing, forcing her backwards and charging towards Spyro, but it was in vain.

The purple dragon had taken a step back, engulfed himself in flames, and rocketed through the barrier in a Comet Dash.

It shattered in a myriad of shards.

Cynder, airbourn, flew over Cyril's head victoriously at top speed. He couldn't react quick enough to stop her as she followed Spyro out into open air, fleeing the enraged former guardian.

She ran to the entrance to the Temple, but stopped when she saw Spyro, who was staring upwards. She followed his gaze, and her jaw dropped.

"This is not good," she muttered.

Fifty or so Ice dragons were above them, circling the Temple. She shook her head in horror.

Then Cyril emerged from behind them. They could hear the intimidating sounds of claws on a stone floor clearly, not to mention his voice.

"Well, you two, this seems to be it. Even if you do manage to break free of this, you have to come back, unless you want to abandon your foster brother, Spyro. He's down there, in a lamp, lighting up the entire place we just fought in. And you didn't even notice him."

Spyro gasped, but his eyes narrowed, and his scales darkened. Cynder recognised the signs as his body started to glow purple, and she stepped back, not wanting to be in his sights when the attack came.

A massive Convexity beam slammed into Cyril, knocking him off his feet and sliding across the room. Even when the Ice dragon was pressed against the wall, Spyro kept firing. Purple energy was powering into Cyril with extreme force, until finally Spyro closed his mouth, satisfied.

The Ice-blue dragon stood up again, shaking his head. Spyro gaped, as did Cynder. "That's impossible!"

"Oh, Spyro," Cyril intoned, "there is much you don't know about your most powerful weapon."

"None can stand against Convexity!"

"Not even Malefor?" That gave Spyro pause. The Dark Master had indeed resisted their attacks. "I thought not. Those with Convexity can stand most of its power. And, of course, those who develop resistance to it, which is much the same thing." An small frown met his face. "I am of the latter group."

Spyro and Cynder looked at him, the dragons circling above, and each other, before turning and sprinting away down the streets. Cyril's voice rang out behind, shouting orders. Half the horde spilt from the rest, heading for the gate. The other half pursued the two dragons from above, following their movements as best they could.

Glancing up, seeing the split, Cynder said quietly, "We need another way out." They had flown through the window of a large house, and out the other side again, hearing thumps from upstairs as they flew through.

Spyro looked at her, and said, "The tunnels! They were in the west of the city!" Glancing to the Temple for guidance, he continued, "This way, I think! Follow me."

Having lost sight of the dragons early on, the horde above was scattered, searching. Spyro especially, with his purple scales and gold horns, had to look out. While Cynder's Shadow abilities could cloak her temporarily, once they'd raided a small stall of some crystals, Spyro had no defense but the real shadows, which were not always adequate, as the moon was full. When one particularly attentive enemy was overhead, clearly silhouetted, Cynder had to breath Shadow Fire on the area above Spyro to hide him, trusting to her own dark scales for personal camouflage. Luckily enough, it worked, and progress resumed.

They made it quickly to the tunnels, still unlocked from their last visit. The dragon statues lined the entrance, keys in paws, the pathway lit and open. Looking back, Cynder saw dark shapes spiraling and grouping over Warfang. One larger dragon shape was before the others, and she fancied she could hear Cyril's pretencious tones.

They headed into the tunnels, but Cynder paused. "Spyro," she said, "shouldn't we take some of the keys with us? We don't want Cyril finding which way we've gone and chasing us with that horde, do we?"

He stopped in his tracks, smiling at her. "And that, Cynder, is why you are the thinker in this partnership. Great idea!" She grinned.

"Thank you, but you thought of the tunnels yourself. You don't give yourself enough credit." She moved over to one of the keys, pulling it out with her jaws, but she had forgotten how much they weighed, and, unbalanced, almost fell over. So, it seemed, had Spyro, judging by the unexpectedly strained look on his face.

Nonetheless, they silently carried the keys through the doors, which shut behind them with an echoing thud.

**Okay people, this is getting seriously irritating, especially after the last chapter. It wouldn't be annoying to have this many reviews normally, but it's a bit of a let-down. I got three entirely positive reviews for the first chapter, and I've barely doubled that on the fourth. And it isn't as if this isn't being read. Four followers, three favorites. Yet just a single review for the last chapter. I understand and appreciate being short on time, and I also acknowledge how annoying it is for authors to beg like this. When I started with this whole fanfiction thing, that was the one thing I told myself I wouldn't do. However, right now, this is sort of turning into a crisis. So please, those of you with accounts, just review! I don't care how short; this is just getting irritating.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay you guys, I must apologise for being so demanding last chapter, and I also have to thank all the reviewers, especially the anonymous ones. Thanks all you guys! The support is brilliant! And I appreciate this enough that this chapter is especially long, and it has something I never thought I'd write towards the end... It's kind of awkward to say this. But you know what, I'll just give you the chapter now.**

Chapter Six: Preparations.

**Prepare: 1. make something ready for use 2. get ready to do or deal with something 3. (be prepared to do) be willing to do.**

The next morning, at the exit to the tunnels, Spyro awoke to see Cynder sitting a way away, looking over some scrolls arranged on the ground. Her scales sparkled beautifully and intriguingly in the morning sun. He rose stiffly, padded over to her, and looked down at one of the texts that, likely already read, had been cast to the side.

_Vitalis returned to the Temple yesterday, with an extremely interesting theory based on an occurance he witnessed. He has, in fact, gone so far as to link it with Ishnare's texts on undiscovered elements, and one in particular, causing quite a stir among the Warfang communities. He claims to have been meditating, as is his habit, upon the tip of the mountain that can be seen twenty miles to the west of Hidaeth, three miles north of Mastrius._

_At this point, according to him, he gazed down the mountain, and saw an empowered burst of the Convexity power that we have all come to fear in those dragons for whom it is heriditary. Despite his confidence and power as Earth Guardian, he was unwilling to face the power, and nor, he thought, was the dragon it was targeted at; another deep green earth dragon, at the base of the mountain._

_The dragon below dodged the first beam, but it was turned to him again. This is where things became unusual, if the power of Convexity is not strange enough. The green dragon opened his own mouth, but rather than earth, a great beam of white energy sprung towards the Convexity dragon. The beams met, and struggled for a time, but after several intense minutes, with Vitalis frozen in awe of what he perceived as two opposite powers conflicting, the duel was won by the Convexity dragon._

_The purple magic tore through the white, and the earth dragon below the mountain dodged it, before making a running takeoff and fleeing the scene, leaving the other dragon, grey in colour, panting and out of breath. Nonetheless, before Vitalis's very eyes, the Convexity dragon too flew off, in pursuit of the other dragon._

_When Vitalis reported this, obviously, we of the council doubted him. An opposite and equal power to Convexity would surely have arisen to common knowledge far before now, when three known and feared Convexity dragons roamed our lands. But Vitalis pointed to Ishnare's theories, shifting elements over time, and especially the multiple counts of reports and suspicions of Light dragons, some with similar powers to the one he saw._

_Our conclusion, however, was that one witness, no matter how reliable and trusted, cannot hold the full account of a sighting like this. Light dragons remain a disproven theory, and have been so since the days of Ishnare._

Spyro looked to another scroll, curiosity piqued. It described a similar occurance, but with a dragon gaining a covering of pure white light over his body. However, there was one major difference, in that someone had scrawled 'Turfeon' over and over at the bottom of the page, along with several question marks after each word.

The next paper was written by Volteer, Spyro guessed, and explained some theories on Light being opposite to Shadow rather than convexity, and expressed some opinions as to the mess that was the research on Light dragons, even over the course of long periods of time.

He looked up after that, to find Cynder staring at him, a questioning glint in her eyes. "What?"

She shook her head. "It's kind of impolite, really, reading over people's shoulders."

"It wasn't really over your shoulder, it was discarded a metre away from what I saw."

Cynder's grin brightened his day, in such a sharp contrast to her words.

"But still, reading something that belongs to someone else isn't nice."

"Are you the one who owns all Volteer's research, then? Personally, I'd presume that's Volteer's, not yours."

A low, playful growl was her first response, then, "This is actually interesting stuff, you know. If they exist, these light dragons are quite powerful, and may be useful allies. But with centuries between sightings, it's unlikely for us to find one. If they even exist."

Spyro nodded. "That's unfortunate, but true. They could be great allies to our resistance." Cynder raised an eyeridge. "What? Resistance? Cyril is in control of the city, and trying to take control of more, I guess, if he wants power so much. We resist him. Hence, we are the resistance against Cyril." She just shook her head. "What?"

"I'm just surprised. You said something I didn't expect, and it was logical."

Spyro growled playfully, "Hey! I resent that!"

She giggled. It was becoming quite a common occurance. "You sound like Sparx." The giggle vanished. "When do we break him out?"

Spyro lost his smile. "When we have some decent support, or knowledge of the citizens' state of minds. We need to know if we do or don't have backup, because going up against fifty or so dragons alone seems like a bad idea."

Cynder snorted, "Yeah, but more than fifty."

Spyro was almost speechless. "... How?"

"If they take up the entire area of the city next to the walls, there can't just be fifty of them." Spyro cursed under his breath. "What was that?"

Spyro grinned sheepishly. "I'm not actually sure. Something Volteer said whilst ranting about the injustice of Malefor or some such." She shook her head, teasingly, but dropped the subject.

"Where are we going to find anyone to help us against Cyril? Recruiting other dragons from anywhere seems a long shot right now." Spyro paused for thought.

"Well, the priority is, I think, rescuing Sparx. So we need information from one who has been in the city, and a way to sneak in. We have a way to sneak in," he gestured to the tunnel, "and Prowlus said that Hunter had remained in the city and would be returning shortly. If we head for Avalar and meet him there, hopefully he'll give us a clue as to the necessary strategy."

Cynder looked at him, head tilted. "Would the cheetahs help us?"

Spyro just snorted. "With Prowlus as chief? Helping dragons fight dragons at the cost of his own people? I highly doubt that. In the cheetah village, Hunter and Meadow are our only allies."

The black dragoness nodded. "I feared as much. But still, they're the only allies we have, so I say we find them before they hear whatever bullcrap Cyril's probably spouting about us being dangers to society."

Spyro laughed and nodded, "Good plan!"

"Would I have said it if it were a bad one?"

The flight to Avalar, unlike the flight away from it, was anything but cheery. Venison were not chased, the collective name for a group of crows was not made fun of, valleys were not flown down because they looked nice. This was business. The flight was long, hard and fast.

They arrived in Avalar in half the time it took to reach Warfang, reaching the valley by early afternoon.

Their first sight came when Cynder pointed out a small wisp of smoke ahead. Flying higher, the source was identified as the group of huts that was the village.

Flying there, Cynder glanced down and shuddered slightly at the sight of the gorge that led to the Hermit's home. Sparx had been the one to help them out of that mess, stealing the key. In turn, that let them unlock a storeroom to float a barge to drag downriver to save a cheetah to gain the trust of a village and set Hunter free.

That had been a confusing day.

As they closed in on the village, Spyro was staring downwards, frowning. Cynder stopped worrying about Prowlus and followed his gaze, to see a cloaked, upright form with a bow over its shoulder heading out of the Forbidden Passage, moving towards the village.

The couple angled their wings, heading down to intercept the figure. Both recognised the comfortable loping run of their guide, and the very one they were searching for.

First Cynder, then Spyro, crashed into the ground in front of Hunter, strong battle-hardened limbs cushioning the speedy landing perfectly. They rose out of their crouches simultaneously, to see Hunter standing, arms crossed, shaking his head and grinning.

"What is it with you two and dramatic entrances? All the time, you crash out of somewhere to rescue somewhere else, and I'd have thought you'd cut it out when you'd actually beaten the evil maniac to kingdom come, but I guess some habits are hard to break. The entire way here I was glancing backwards for apes and grublins." He paused in the conversation when he noticed their serious faces. "What's wrong?"

Spyro glanced at Cynder, but she remained silent. She wasn't inclined to talk about it any more than he was, if anything even less, being quite awkward around most others. Hunter was one of a few exceptions, but the most recent of them nonetheless. The others included the Guardians (apart from Cyril, now), and Sparx. And maybe Meadow, they had all been at ease with him around. So, it was left to Spyro to explain.

"Hunter," he began, "I'm not sure how it was when you were there, but Cyril has frozen the other Guardians, apart from Ignitus, who died helping us across the Ring of Fire." Sorrow flooded his voice for a second, but he stood tall and pushed it away. (Cynder moved closed to him too, pressing against his side.) "He's basically in control of the city, with dozens of Ice dragons as an enforcing army. We were forced to run once we found out what he'd done, but he has Sparx. We have to rescue him."

Hunter raised his eyebrows, glancing from Spyro to Cynder and back again. "This is serious, if you're right, and I don't doubt you are. Come, we must inform chief Prowlus-"

"Is he going to help dragons to fight other dragons who are strongly defended in a massive city whilst risking the lives of cheetahs?" Cynder demanded, sarcastic doubt lacing her words. "I think not."

Hunter raised his eyebrows, but nodded. "No, I suppose you're right. Unfortunately, I cannot help you, as Prowlus has summoned me, but I shall retain contact with you as much as I can if you remain near this area and relay any news. I may also ask Meadow, the cheetah you saved, to find you when I cannot. Where shall you be?"

Cynder glanced at Spyro, suggesting, "The next valley?"

Spyro considered, then nodded. "If it's uninhabited, then that should be fine."

Hunter licked his lips nervously, then said, "It is. We rarely go there, it's quite large and has a lake in the middle. I'll meet you there, tomorrow. You get there by going down to the same end of the valley as the Hermit's cave. Over a slope of dirt and loose stones is a rise which will lead you on to the Valley of Olerbar. I must bid you farewell, young dragons, and I shall see you by the lakeside tomorrow." Hunter bade them farewell, and the two dragons moved up the sunlit valley towards its end.

They passed the waterfalls that fed the river, looking to the top of one in particular with a fondness. The light sparkled in brilliant rainbows as it plunged through the cascade, brilliantly lighting up the place where they had officially become a couple, and created the spiritual bond through the serpentine necklaces.

The whole valley seemed beautiful from that point on. The green grass, the sun, the blue sky; remarkably clear of clouds. It seemed a safe haven from the world around it, but they knew that to be false when they came across Grublin weapons abandoned to the side of some trees, left over from their first visit.

The two gazed around the valley for a bit more, causing Spyro to come up with a question.

"After the world broke up as much as it did, why are all these places we know still geographically in the same place? I would have expected it to have shifted a bit. Hunter didn't even doubt the location of the valley we're heading to. Also, if he arrived here that quick, he used the underground passageway. I'd expect that to be at least a bit messed up."

Before Cynder could reply that she didn't know, a voice came from behind them. "It's all beneath your feet. The surface of this planet is broken into plates of rock, earth lying on top of them. The force created by the destroyer pushed the plates outwards, and when Spyro pulled them back in, what was on top did not change. In fact, most of the plates remain in the same place as before, as they could not fit anywhere else. The world is as it was. Now please, leave me as I was. I wish to rest."

The cloaked figure of the Hermit was standing calmly next to the entranceway to the gorge. His grey eyes were focused; the staff held in his right paw was firmly planted in the ground beneath him. He made no move towards him, they made no move towards him. But this time, there was no hostility towards Cynder in his eyes. They seemed calm, resigned, not even curious towards them, which was curious in itself, in a sharp comparison to the tense dragons. But they relaxed enough to ignore him after a few minutes of staring, and they scrambled their way up the loose slope.

Cynder was the first to crest the rise. She looked down on Olerbar Valley and gasped, breath-taken.

It was in an oval shape, like most valleys, but more circular, with ridges jutting sharply up around the side, making it hard to walk into from any direction. The easiest route in was the scree slope. She counted eight rocks positioned around the dark grey ridges, a strong aspect of a valuable defensive barrier. A way down from the ridges, dirt and grass began to slope down from the cold rock, sloping bowl-like down to a perfectly circular lake that glittered in the reflected sunlight. A forest consisting of mainly oak trees was to the left of the lake, but most of the shore was clear.

"Wow," Spyro said, coming up next to her. "It's like the perfect safe haven. I wonder why it isn't inhabited?" He scanned the ground all around the valley with sharp eyes. "I can barely see any wildlife either. It's like no one knows it's here, but Hunter does."

"It should be inhabited by something," Cynder agreed. "And I know for sure that it was."

"Why's that?" Spyro inquired.

"Look," said Cynder, and she gestured with a claw.

On the opposite side to the trees, where a stream trickled down from somewhere halfway up a tall cliff, there seemed to be some sort of stone ruin of a wall, running sideways along from halfway down the stream. In fact, now that she noticed it, there seemed to be similar structures, including ones that looked like the bases of houses, scattered throughout the strange new valley.

"You're right! Look, everywhere, there's some sign of ruined buildings, abandoned livelihoods. Chances lost to time and foes. Traces of the past where nothing goes."

Cynder looked at Spyro with an eyebrow raised. "What's happened to your head? I'm getting worried. You said something both intelligent and somewhat poetic. Who are you and what have you done with Spyro?" Her grin immediately showed the fact that she wasn't serious, and she nuzzled his neck in apology for the teasing. "Sorry, I just couldn't resist that."

He shook his head, "It's fine, and I think I might have to get used to that sort of thing."

"Either that or I stop making these remarks."

"Will you?"

Cynder smirked, "Not a chance!"

Spyro just groaned and, head still shaking, light grin on his face, strode down the steep hill towards the lake. Cynder bounded after him, pleased for the chance to relax and explore a new valley.

Their claws brushed through soft grass, relishing the feeling of comfort. Every now and then, a stone would meet their paws; each time, they looked down to find it square and angular, generally clustered close to others. More evidence that a civilised group of beings lived, or had once lived, there.

When they were about halfway to the remarkably central lake, Cynder's paw met something cold and sharp. She immediately stopped, lifting the foot and looking at it; a thin line of blood traced it's way across. She turned her gaze downwards to find a finely crafted metal sword.

It was not a curved scimitar like those she had seen some high-ranking apes use, and she had no idea what the moles used to fight with but that one cannon, but it was long and straight, and looked like it would fit the paw of a cheetah. The metal was dulled, but nonetheless she could see the fact that it was a strong and sharp weapon.

She picked it up in her mouth, by the hilt, to show Spyro, who by then had advanced further ahead. A muffled grunt was almost all she could do as an attempt to communicate, but he barely seemed to notice. She snorted, louder.

His head tilted to the side, but he didn't look round, so she trod on his tail.

That made him turn. His eyes widened at the sight of the sword as she dropped it at his feet. He investigated it, poking it and rolling it over with his paw. She commented on the unusual weapon first.

"I've never seen anything quite like it in my life. It's like some ape weapons, but more refined. And still quite sharp too," she said, raising her paw to show him the cut. He winced at the sight.

"It certainly isn't a dragon weapon, we could never hold that. Due to the proximity of Avalar, I'd say it is a cheetah weapon. We should show Hunter when he comes."

Spyro carefully picked it up with his tail, holding it away from his body, and the two progressed, looking downwards now with greater attention. They soon came across several similar weapons, along with arrowheads, piled together. Other weapons, more brutal clubs and some curved swords, seemed to circle around that pile, more of them than there were in the middle. A few sharp fragments of an undentified material lay scattered across the ground. Spyro and Cynder eyed the site warily, but moved on.

The closer they got to the lake, the more assorted weapons, and the more stone remnants of buildings, they found underfoot. When they reached the shore, it was hard to take a step; when Spyro bent his neck to take a drink of the water, a long bone stared him in the face.

They looked at each other. "This place has seen a great tragedy," Spyro said mournfully. Cynder nodded.

"It must have been a safe haven, a home, a natural fortress. It must have been overwhelmed, judging from the weapons, by the apes, but a long time ago. It looks like the fighters were herded towards the centre, to the lake, from all sides. Some must have managed to flee the way we came from, maybe guarded by the people wielding the weapons we found in a group. They were pursued in bulk, but the warriors stayed back in an attempt to guard the rear. The apes encircled and overwhelmed them, but maybe the rest go away. Maybe they didn't. We may never know."

"But Hunter might," Spyro pointed out.

"Yes. He might. But something tells me I don't quite want to know."

Cynder wasn't exactly squeamish, but, as Spyro pointed out, "Some things are better left unsaid."

She nodded, "True. I vote we don't inquire."

"I'm in agreement with you on that." The horrors of war obviously weighed heavily on both their minds. Hearing of a bloody battle, no matter the horrors they were soon to witness fighting Cyril, would not be a welcomed experience.

After a small discussion over where they should sleep, Spyro and Cynder headed towards the forested side of the valley. Spyro had said that they should be in an exposed position, so that Hunter would be able to find them. Cynder had pointed out that she doubted Hunter would be prowling around in the dead of night, so they might as well seek the shelter of the trees, and it might be best if the cheetah warrior didn't see them 'sleeping,' as she put it.

Cynder had decisively won the argument.

She glanced around quickly as they entered the forest. As she had observed before, all the trees were oak, the distinctively wavy edges to the leaves being the giveaway, as well as the size. Some of the thicker-trunked ones were almost wider than they were long, and had to be around three hundred years old.

It wasn't yet autumn, so few leaves were on the ground, and they ignored any sort of covering as they just curled up at the bottom of a tree, in a ball that looked like a purple and black yin-yang. (Sorry if it's out of context! There's no other way to put it!) But Cynder was uncomfortable facing a different way to him, so she carefully turned around, making sure not to tread on any of his legs, which were spread out towards her. When she settled down again, she was much more comfortable than before, with her tail wrapped around Spyro's, her legs tangled with his, and her face staring directly at his closed eyes as the sound of his breathing calmed her and the flow of his breath caressed her cheeks.

Then, his eyes opened.

Cynder yelped in surprise, jerking her head, but sighed a second later, forcing wind energy into the sigh and making Spyro snort.

"What was that for?!" he asked indignantly. She just sighed again.

"Spyro, don't surprise me like that! Do I do that to you?"

"No, and the things you do to me I think I prefer, so sorry about that. I was just having a bit of fun."

A sense of guilt came across Cynder. He was right. He had been having fun and she'd blown it back in his face, in more ways than one. "I'm sorry, Spyro," she muttered, pressing her head closer to his. "I was too quick to act on my shock, and to inconsiderate to look at it from your perspective. "How can I make it up to you?"

He closed his eyes, but when he opened them, they were sparkling with love. "I think I know how," he said, grinning. She immediately saw what Spyro was getting at, and didn't have to move much to lock their lips together with a passion.

In the library at Warfang, they had done some research in the romance genre of books. Despite the initial weirdness and disgust, not to mention lack of understanding of some terms, a dictionary and a more educational book had turned the whole thing into quite the learning experience.

Thus, Cynder knew exactly how to progress from a simple kiss. Pushing forwards, she opened her mouth and felt him do the same. Their tongues met, but not as they had two days before, accidentally and hesitantly. No, they coiled together like serpents, the twin serpents around the dragons' necks glowing with green eyes in response to the emotions of their wearers. Both Spyro and Cynder noticed; neither cared, focusing only on each other as she pushed forwards, with her legs too, pinning him below her and caressing him with her tail. His too curled upwards, stroking her belly scales and inciting a moan of pleasure, a noise Cynder had never expected to make in her life.

Their wings moved forwards like those of a falcon in a dive, circling the lovers as much as possible in a cocoon of scaly membrane. They parted from the kiss, for a single second, before reengaging with renewed vigour. Neither cared about anything but the other at that moment, neither cared about consequences or risks at that moment, all they knew and all they loved and all they saw were synonymous, wrapped up in each other, and what happened next passed in a blur, neither quite remembering the first of many of their times together, only knowing that they were satisfied and in love.

And they both remembered one thing distinctly; the moment in the middle of it all when their eyes met, each a mix of joy and love, and relief too, relief that after so long knowing one another they had finally mated and got their hearts desires.

And when their eyes met, both very clearly, despite the whirlwind of emotions, said, "I love you," a tender moment of nothing but sweet adoration amidst the raging passion.

And then the passion went on, until it ended in a burst of unified bliss, and they collapsed onto their sides, tails twined, snouts rubbing, wings spread behind them, satisfied and exhausted on the forest floor.

* * *

**Okay, that is my first attempt at anything like a lemon. Ever. Apart from a few highly inexplicit and pointless lines in a songfic from a while back, but still.**

**Yeah, about the lemon. I tried to write it in the style of Douglas Reeman, an author who wrote very good books generally about battles of ships and men during world wars one and two. He was never overly detailed in things like that; due to my discomfort, I emulated him here, and hope it turned out alright. Not a proper lemon, but I can almost guarantee that I won't be able to write that sort of thing anyway. This was one hell of a stretch for me. Hopefully you lot thought it was alright. I didn't, not really.**

**But yeah, my biggest chapter so far! Not that I'm overly concerned with word counts, of course... But it's still an achievement.**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Traitors!

**Decry: publicly declare something to be wrong or bad.**

"They are traitors and villains, and they are not welcome here!" Mutterings came from the crowd of moles outside the Warfang Temple, mutterings of doubt and suspicion. Cyril would have to do better than that. "Do you not see? Surely only the power of a purple dragon could control our mighty guardians! And he has certainly already disposed of the only one who could free Terrador and Volteer from such a situation! Ignitus never returned after he went to help Spyro and Cynder! They are traitors, I say, traitors to our entire civilisation!"

The mutterings of the moles changed, now more questioning than suspicious towards Cyril and the hundred dragons, both equal and below the size of Spyro and Cynder. Even larger than them was the single Guard Captain, an older follower and the first experimental subject Cyril had obtained. Well, retained really; several others had perished.

The captain was large and bulking, more so than Cyril, but extremely loyal. Also, as you might well not guess at first sight, she was female, and, fortunately enough for Cyril, was loyal and uncaring enough to make no protests to producing a few reinforcements to Cyril's quest for power.

The products of said quest, fifteen dragons larger than most of the others, stood behind their mother, the Captain, who stood behind their Father, Cyril. While he found such a thing disturbing, they knew no better, as they felt some, but not many, emotions, unlike the mass troops. The mass troops were little more than grublins in terms of intelligence. The others were necessary as leaders.

A mole in the front of the relatively small protesting crowd shouted out, "If they're so bad, then why save the world from Malefor?"

Cyril, obviously, had his answer prepared. "To save their own lives, my friend. Malefor was attempting to kill them with the Golem and the Destroyer, and any half-sane being would seek support. So they enlisted the support of our own guardians and warriors, pretending to help whilst weakening them and now disposing of them behind their very backs. Only I was able to see through their deceptions and avoid their trap. It was only with the support of all these loyal troops that I managed to drive the traitors out!"

The mutterings turned angry.

Yet still above the noise rose a single voice, the same as before. "Troops from where, exactly? We could have used them during the siege! And yet us moles on the walls and burning in out houses only had two dragons down on our level and helping us, and those are the two you are trying to prosecute! Explain that away!"

The moles looked to Cyril with questioning glares.

In an attempt to placate them, Cyril said, "People, I know that what you say is true. But the fact of the matter is that my messages pleading for reinforcements of some sort were slow in arriving, as they were carried by beings who could not fly, and they were attacked on the way. It took great courage for the lone messenger who got through to them to pass the many dangers that lay in his way, but also a great amount of time. With all speed, this was the fastest that they could get here."

The mole stepped forwards again, before even muttering burst out. "That doesn't change the fact that they acted without malicious intent to save the entireity of my own brother's family from burning to death!"

Leaning forwards, Cyril raised his voice to say, "That's obviously false, as they have gained support from the city's citizens through this act!" Raising his head to address the crowd in general, Cyril yelled, "See how Spyro and Cynder have manipulated a poor and innocent member of the Warfang community and bent him to their will! See how they trick us! See why they must be disposed of, before it is too late and they seize control of the city!"

The mole near his paws turned to the rest of the population, opening his mouth to shout something else out, but Cyril bent down, putting his head to his level. "If you insist on spreading dissent and uncertainity, you are a traitor as much as them. Captain! Take this mole away. Put him in the cell, that should teach him a lesson." The Captain grabbed the mole around the torso, squeezing the wind out of him and stopping anything he was about to say.

The crowd watched in silence as the mole was carried away, apart from one, who yelled, "Hanver! Be careful! I never should have told you what happened to us!" But before Hanver could respond, he was out of sight.

"Now!" Cyril declared, catching the crowd's attention again, "You have seen how much these traitors can influence people's opinions against their dedicated Guardians. This travesty cannot be allowed to continue! I intend to drive from the city all those who oppose its free reign! Starting with all those friends of the traitors that attacked our Guardians!"

Cheering, somewhat dim and halfhearted, but more enthusiastic than before, rang out as Cyril turned away and flicked his tail, summoning the twelve guard leaders to follow him into the darkness that led to his newly built cells.

As they walked, he said to them, "Get your men to spread the word across the city; Sparx, the friend of the traitors, will be executed in ten days time. Send messengers to other places as well; Avalar, for example. I want to root out the two so-called heroes before they get the chance to gain support."

Two of the dragons grinned and nodded, separating from the group and barking commands to the forces, who quickly and sharply went about their work.

I said some chapters would be short, purposefully so


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: Ambush.

**Conceal: 1 stop someone or something being seen 2 keep something secret.**

Sneaking in through the tunnels was out. The keys they'd taken with them and hidden at the other end of the passage would go into the other side, but the two on the inside must have been removed from the dragon statues. Leaving Spyro and Cynder with only the single option of taking them from whoever had them. Within a day of the execution.

It had been four days for the announcement to get to Avalar, and three days of panic had passed before Hunter had managed to sneak out of the confused village and tell Spyro and Cynder. They had set off immediately, on the way finding and taking with them all the green and red crystals they could find.

A little bit of shadow-sneaking had got Cynder her answers as to where the keys were. Hanging on strings around the necks of Cyril and the Guard Captain.

Now, they had to get them back if they were going to get anywhere near Sparx without being detected by the even more attentive guards that would surely be attending the execution.

Spyro's part of the plan was to ambush the Guard captain and take him or her out, taking his or her key in the process. Cynder's was more tricky and more demanding. She would have to sneak through the city as much as she could the night before, and snatch Cyril's key as he slept. Though that might as well be an open declaration of their intentions, there wasn't much more they could do.

Now, Spyro was above the wall of Warfang. He was hidden in a cloud of his own creation, made by breathing Ice, then melting it to steam with brilliant flames. Due to the fact that his elements had created it, he had a degree of control over the false cloud. Surveying the area beneath him for what had to be the hundredth time, his eyes lit up as he saw his target.

The Captain was making her way along the fortifications. Spyro's cloud drifted lower, towards the space behind her. She was speaking to a few of the sentries on duty, and then proceeded to a different group. When she was between the two, he took a deep breath, and struck.

Throughout the time in the cloud, he had been building anger in his head. Thinking about how Cyril had wasted Ignitus's sacrifice by betraying them like that especially had set him off. So his first attack was an already-charged blast of Convexity.

Before any other dragons could react, or even the Captain, she was blasted off the wall. A comet of fire blazed after her as Spyro encased himself in the flames and hurtled away in pursuit, faster than any of the Ice dragons on the walls.

The Captain had, it seemed, managed to halt her fall a bit, as her wings were spread around her as she lay on the ground. However, she was motionless when Spyro reached her, and he quickly reached out with a claw and severed the string that tied the key to the Ice dragon's neck. Grabbing the key in his mouth, he glanced around, but before he could take anything in a weight fell onto his back and he dropped his prize in shock as his legs bent under the pressure.

But instinct kicked in, and he sprung up again, dislodging the weight and throwing his opponent in front of him. Spyro growled at the large ice dragon in front of him-larger than Spyro, certainly-and then several other dragons landed in a circle around him and the unconscious Guard Captain. Spyro was surrounded by thirteen of the warriors, all but one of which-the first-were almost exactly his size.

"By the command of High Guardian Cyril, you are under arrest, for treachary to the guardians and the city of Warfang, assaulting two Guards, the Guard Captain, and Master Cyril himself, and dabbling in the Dark Art of Convexity. Will you come quietly?" A sadistic grin passed over the Ice dragon's face, as if he knew exactly what the answer would be. And sure enough, Spyro had fought and won outnumbered before. That gave him the confidence to do what he did.

Covering himself in fire again, he burst forwards, smashing the largest foe away, knocking him out and burning him in the process. Turning, he found the four nearest all converging on his position. The two on the right he blasted with Earth Missiles, which passed through the liquid Ice they had fired in defence. Backing away, he faced the other two, even as another closed in from the right. Two behind them were circling around, and he couldn't see the others.

Three down, ten to go.

Two volleys of Ice Shards sparkled as they made their ways towards him. He countered with his own, and when an almost complete wall of Ice had formed where the attacks met, quickly jerked his head to the side and unleashed a bolt of electricity. The other dragon fell, to be replaced by two more.

Spyro pressed his paws to the Ice wall quickly, focused on his control of the Ice, and pushed. There was no visible change to his side, but he could sense the other side protruding at a great rate, until it met resistance in the form of two bodies the shape of dragons. He removed his paws and ducked as a paw went for his head.

Six down, seven to go.

Two were on his right, three had just emerged from around the slab of Ice on the left, which held two of their compatriots frozen and out of the battle. Which left two.

Behind him.

He leapt skywards, sending an inferno towards all those in front of him as he did so. Their breaths countered it, creating a cloud of steam, but he had already swirled to meet the ones coming from the rear. He dived downwards towards them; they shot Ice Shards up. A powerful Earth Missile smashed through the shower of Ice, then shook the ground between the two, but did no more than that.

Spyro heard the beating of wings behind him, and knew he would have to dispose of the others quickly, and, continuing his dive and extending his paws, he smashed both their heads into the ground, presumably snapping their necks, as he heard a crack, and neither moved.

He turned to meet a strong blow to the face, but ignored it, lunging forwards with his horns and catching the dragon off-guard. With a lightning-fast bite he tore out the throat of the enemy.

Nine down, four to go.

But he was on the ground, and they were above him in the air, hemming him in. One, then the other, would swoop and attack in a cycle that kept him pinned on the ground. They were breathing their elements at him too, keeping him on the defensive even more.

He was crouching to avoid one particularly close attack when it hit him. They were delaying. Reinforcements would arrive soon. No matter the cost, he had to escape with the key, and quickly!

The key he had dropped, that was. Adding another layer of difficulty to his problem.

But nonetheless, on the next pass, he leapt up, catching the Ice dragon attacking at that point by surprise. His surprise let Spyro just fly past him, blindsiding one who was coming out of a turn. A torrent of flames burnt the dragon badly, a bolt of electricity stunned him, and a tail blade went through his throat as Spyro lashed out while still flying past. He dived downwards, towards where the strange red glow of the key still remained. Grabbing it in his jaws, he shot off at full speed, but was tired from the fighting and maintaining the cloud for so long. Soon, the other dragons were catching up as he shot away from Warfang.

The first hint as to that fact was the closeness of the approaching wingbeats. The second was the icicle that just missed his neck. A third was not needed.

Spyro did half a loop-the-loop before levelling out and diving, smashing into a thin-framed dragon that was leading the other three. He kept a tight hold the whole way down, wings folded, until the screaming dragon's ribcage met the earthen floor and Spyro, unharmed, jumped off. He had done that purely as a melee attack because with the key in his mouth, he would be unable to use any breath attacks without damaging it.

The other three dragons, heavier and bulkier, landed in a circle around him. He just smiled, knowing his tactic.

His body pulsed with Electricity, which came out of him in a sphere that surrounded him, cutting him off from the Ice dragons. He quickly poured more energy into it, causing currents of the power to shoot out from the sphere and into his enemies.

Screeches of pain rang out from outside the sphere.

Emerging from the ball of magic, Spyro cast a glance over the figures that lay prone around him, before shaking his head and tiredly plodding away, finding the strength to take off and gliding as much as he could back to the rendezvous.

* * *

**Sorry about the long chapter break, I literally had nothing in terms of time on the computer! I can only hope that I don't have as much to do before the next one!**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Infiltration.

**Sneak: 1 move or take in a secretive way 2 (Brit. informal) tell someone in authority of a person's wrongdoings 3. (sneaking) (of a feeling) remaining persistently in the mind. (Noun) (Brit informal) a telltale.**

Shrouded in darkness, Cynder hugged the sides of buildings as she progressed through the city's night. The sky was black, apart from the many stars spread across it. But Cynder wasn't looking at them. Her focus was on the shadows that closed around her as she closed in on the Temple, shielding her from view.

Two Ice dragons strode down the street past her, but she remained still, and they seemed to glance right through her before continuing to patrol. She released a breath, and continued on, using the towering form of the Temple as her only directional marker.

A few turns later, staying in the shadows rather than using the Shadow element now the patrol had passed, she peered around a building to see the Temple. The black of the night seemed to shroud it and the holes in its side in mystery. Twenty dragons at least surrounded it on all sides, including upwards, where five circled continuously. Merging into shadow, Cynder kept herself low to the ground anyway, and silently passed through the really rather bad defences. Dragons on either side were unaware as she passed them, and paused on the threshold, looking upwards.

There was no sign of movement, nor of the golden glow of Sparx of the red light of the keys to the tunnels. She looked back down, still hidden in shadow, to see a tripwire stretching across the door, tied to a rock at one end and the tail of one of the guards at the other. Grinning, she and her shadows leapt over it, but she had to quickly duck her head to avoid one that stretched from the same place to the dragon's horn instead.

The thin line, barely visible, shook in the wind as Cynder soared silently past it. The guard twitched, but did nothing in response to the small movement of the string.

Cynder's claws would have clicked upon touching the floor, but she spread her still-hidden wings and glided into the basement of the Temple, where Cyril had been before. She alighted carefully upon the steps, making sure her claws did not touch the ground and give her away. Glancing around, she noted that the glow of gold from before no longer lit up the room, and that Cyril was there too.

The frozen forms of Terrador and Volteer were in the centre now. Volteer's desk was somewhere behind them, a dim glow now coming from that. Cyril was crouched over the desk, doing something, but Cynder couldn't tell what. However, he seemed riveted on his task, and had his back to her, so she released the grip the shadows had around her. They faded away, and she stepped forwards hesitantly, ready to summon them up again at any time.

One step after another, she moved diagonally, away to the left of Cyril in the hope of seeing what he was doing. Before the angle opened up, however, she took a glance around the room to see if anything had changed from its previous plain appearance. And, sure enough, something quite drastic had sprung up.

Lined on the wall on the other side of the room were a series of cells, only one of which was occupied. The occupant was in a bad way. It was a mole, tied by his hands to the walls. Claw-marks were spread across his body, deep enough to bleed and cause pain, but none deep enough to kill. The worst part was, she recognised him. And he was glancing between her and Cyril, contemplation on his face.

It was Hanver, the mole who'd given her the details of what was happening with the Ice dragons, Cyril, and the housing in Warfang.

Staring at Cyril all the while, Cynder slowly progressed across the space between her and the cages. At one point, Cyril seemed suspicious, but he didn't look around, instead just looking to his side. There was something there, something glowing slightly red, and Cynder almost gasped when she saw that it was the key, just lying there. But looking back to Hanver reminded her of her priorities, and risking everything to take something right next to Cyril rather than talking to a friend in need seemed extremely pathetic in terms of loyalty.

Using the Shadow Cloak, she passed through the bars with ease, earning a raised eyebrow from the mole. "What happened," she whispered, as close as she could to his ear. He stared for a second, but spoke anyway.

"Three days after you spoke to me, and two after you were driven out of the city, I arranged a protest for all the citizens of Warfang who were suspicious of Cyril's reign. Cyril met us and argued his pathetic excuse for a case, lined with degrading insults as you might expect, I argued mine, and to stop me from actually winning he seized me and dragged me here. Not him personally, but two of his many guards."

"What's he doing over there?" Cynder hissed, keeping her voice as low as she could.

"Some twisted experiment on some poor creature. It stopped screaming a while back, luckily. Now, what are you doing here? Surely you didn't just catch wind of the fact that this is me in here." She shook her head.

"One of our friends will be executed tomorrow. Both me and Spyro are going to be needed to rescue him. In order to do so, we need to use the tunnels. For that, we need all four keys. We have two, three if Spyro was successful in his mission, and Cyril has the fourth right next to him over there. I'm trying to steal it."

"Anything special about these keys?"

"They glow red. Aside from that, no." Hanver nodded.

"Now, is there any way to make something glow red?"

Cynder considered. "I could infuse it with my Fear powers." Hanver nodded again.

"There is a key in this cell door. Take it and make it glow. Once Cyril realises it isn't the right one, he'll be enraged and almost certainly go and shout at someone. Then, I can escape myself, once you already have the key and your friend, preferably."

Cynder blinked. "How would you escape?"

Hanver chuckled lightly. "I'm a mole. We're good with our paws, and keep useful metal items to hand all the time, like lock-picks. The dragons didn't even search me."

"What did Cyril want with you?"

He shrugged. "To stop the protests I guess. And he was asking me where you were." As Cynder took in the information, he asked her, "How do you plan on getting the key?"

She assessed the situation and came to a decision. "I'll need to distract him, replace the key, and sneak out in as short a space of time as possible. If you're sure you can escape-"

"I can-"

"Then I wish you luck." With that, Cynder turned, moving through shadow to the outside of the cell. She grabbed the key in the door with her teeth, and focused on her Fear powers. She pumped energy as quietly as she could through her teeth, and the key started to glow. She put enough energy in to keep it glowing for about a day, she thought, and headed towards Cyril.

However, she quickly stopped, wondering how she could distract him. Tilting her head, the key chinked a little, almost unnoticeable even to her. Then, she grinned, and carried on with a plan.

Cyril pushed his project away from him, tucking it into a box, and leaned back on his haunches. As he did so, he thought he heard an intake of breath behind him. He froze (excuse the pun). Something cold ran down the back of his neck, and a sensation that made him shiver seemed to enter his mind. Slowly, awkwardly, he turned his head, looking over his left shoulder for whatever had caused the reaction.

The room was empty.

His immediate reaction was to whip his head around to stare at the key that was placed on his right.

It was still there, glowing red as always.

He placed his paw over it, just to reassure himself that it was there. A rush of unease, maybe even fear, passed through him, and he jerked around again, to see no change behind him, and still the feeling remained.

He took his paw off, and noticed nothing strange after that. Shrugging the thoughts off, he walked away from the desk and up the stairs, to assess the state of his guards. And ask them if they'd felt anything similar.

As he emerged into the night, immediately attracting the attention of all the guards, a darker patch of shadow rose behind him, ascending quickly into the night


	10. Chapter 10

**Everyone, so sorry about the lateness of this chapter! Life got away from me a bit, and the half-term holiays I was away with no internet. Curse you Dorset! Why no wi-fi? But yeah, I got a good bit done, but this is all that's going up for now. Sorry, but if I gave you any more then I'd have to post the start of the next book at the same time, which would get a bit confusing.**

* * *

Chapter Ten: Sparx of Fury.

**Underworld: 1 the world of criminals or of organised crime 2 (in myths and legends) the home of the dead, imagined as being under the earth.**

Heads drooping, tails trailing, the purple dragon and black dragoness moved down the dark passage. Both were tired from the day before, and the late night; Cynder having been on the mission long into the night, Spyro unable to sleep without her. The little sleep they had obtained wasn't entirely rejuvenating, and the green crystals they absorbed practically went to waste on dragons already drained of energy.

Keys in their jaws, no conversation passed between them until they reached the lage gate, the four statues to the sides. Two glowed red, those that they had already put in. With a nod to each other, they moved towards the empty statues.

After placing the keys in their places, Spyro and Cynder nodded to each other, moved closer together to take up a battle stance, and stood taller than before, on the alert. They had already guessed that the entrance would be heavily guarded, and knew that there would probably be a fight. They would have to separate and trust each other; each would act on the other's signal, in a prearranged series of movements. But that would come after getting into the city, and silencing the guards as quickly as they could. It needed to be a precise operation.

The doors swung open, revealing the sunlight over the city, which temporarily blinded the dragons who had emerged from the inky blackness of the passage. Spyro blinked in the light, and before he could recover, a force slammed into him, causing him to cry out, though he managed to quiet himself enough that the whole city wouldn't hear. There was a similar shout from Cynder, though more of anger than shock. Spyro threw off the weight that held him down, shaking his head as he got to his feet and finally seeing the enemy through the light.

The moment Spyro's vision was that clear, the large, Ice-blue form hurtled towards him again.

He replicated the movement, claws outstretched and mouth agape.

They met in the middle, Spyro making out the gleam of white teeth and making sure to keep his head out of the way of the snapping jaws as they wrestled, forearm strength being the deciding factor. Spyro lunged with his horns, attempting to throw the enemy to the side at the same time. The flinch away impeded the ice dragon's movement, and when he hit the floor, Spyro landed on top of him. He sank his fangs into the shoulder of his opponent, staining the now clearly visible scales red with blood.

Spyro jerked away, and even as his opponent growled and went for his wings, he sidestepped, twisted and lashed a long gash along his enemy's side. He turned as a smaller opponent jumped at him, launching himself along the ground to avoid the claws. Without turning, he flicked his tail upwards, and knew that it had sunk into his enemy's belly. He continued onwards, to where Cynder was holding her own against three more.

As he approached them at top speed, one glanced around, and, seeing his arrival, spun, sprinting away for reinforcements. Spyro knew that they had no chance if Cyril was alerted, and quickly charged a bolt of electricity. The paralzed dragon froze in his tracks.

Turning away from him, Spyro saw that Cynder had both her remaining dragons trapped with fear, and was preparing to dispose of them, but before he could see what had happened with the other two, a clawed weight crashed into him.

He leapt, raising his wings as if about to fly, and made an Ice Hurricane. The dragon behind him spun, away from him and a little bit above. Spyro flew into him, grabbed his shoulders in his forepaws and clawed at his chest and belly with his hind claws, disemboweling the astounded dragon.

Below, Cynder's opponents were disposed of, and Spyro's second attacker was lying on the ground, curled up and nursing his belly wound. Knowing that the warrior would not survive, he glided to a landing next to him, and put him out of his misery quickly.

Cynder took care of the paralyzed dragon silently.

They dragged the bodies into the passage and cast them down into the deep abyss there, before Spyro grew a thin layer of rock over the blood that stained the floor with his Earth powers. Even an innocent mole might report something if they found a place like that, and Cyril would certainly figure such a puzzle out.

"Remember the signals?" Cynder inquired. Spyro nodded.

"Spot of green, I let myself be seen."

"Shouts ring through the air, I prepare."

"Cyril turns, oxygen burns."

"Make the snatch, what's the catch?" Cynder grinned at the end of the little recital. "I'm glad we laid out the plan like that. It's memorable."

"It is at that," grinned Spyro. His grin faded. "See you."

"You too. Take care." He nodded, leaned forwards for a kiss. She complied happily, conveying everything she felt as strongly as she could. It was a kiss born from abandonment, from loss; loss felt at merely the suggestion of separation. That was the strength of emotion conveyed on both sides as they melded their mouthes as much as possible. That was the strength of their love.

"Stay safe," he whispered as they parted.

"You too," she said, her gaze staying on him even as she backed off, and rounded the corner that led them into the housing region of the city. "I'll be watching out for you." He nodded, and that was the last thing he saw of her before his own preparations. First, he removed one of the keys from the doorway. Next, he breathed a cloud of Ice, and held it in place around him. A small tongue of fire was quick to melt the Icy particles, spreading steam around Spyro's body. Using his control over the elements that had made it, he rose up, remaining shrouded in it as he flew, heading for the plaza outside the Temple.

* * *

Cynder moved from house to house, window to window. Above street level, she figured, was safer than on the street, and below rooftop level safer from flying patrols or watchers. She fitted into the area no-one watched; the first or second floor windows. Even the houses that seemed to be inhabited were all empty; she figured that everyone wanted to see what would happen at the execution, and had left their houses empty. Whatever the cause, she flitted from street to street, out of view, on a beeline towards the Temple.

A small cloud floated by over her head, and she grinned upon seeing it.

As she was, she guessed, only a few streets away from her target, the streets were filling up more. Two guards, consistently staring around in all directions, including up, policed the crowds. Four more were flying in circles around the Temple at varying distances, making it difficult for her, but paying no attention to a cloud that flew right through their ranks.

Cynder would have to use her powers for an extended period of time in order to get past. While traversing the empty streets and buildings, she could remove the shadowy cloak without fear, which saved as much energy as possible. However, a longer use would drain her quickly.

She peered out of the window she was looking through again. There was a disturbance; one of the moles in the crowd was complaining to the guards about something, keeping their attention and the attention of the gathering crowd. Two of the outer fliers landed nearby to help control the large group of moles. Cynder wouldn't get a better chance. She jumped out of the window, rose to rooftop level, and soared next to the street, above the houses. She heard fragments of the shouting mole below's speech as she did so.

"Nothing wrong... release him... Hanver would never..."

The voice blurred into the distance as Cynder passed the area, but they stayed in her mind. The mole she'd spoken to had friends, relatives, people who wanted him back. And they'd been through the loss of him because he's trusted her motives in a small chat she started because she was suspicious.

Was it worth it?

The pain she had caused them for a simple investigation practically already confirmed, was it worth it?

But self-doubt had no place in her mind when she was on a mission, and nor did distraction. Action was the way forward. And so she continued onto the next row of houses, using the Shadow Cloak as soon as she launched herself off the slate-tiled roof. The flight carried her into the circle of buildings that lined the Temple. She dodged into one of the windows, and immediately released the Shadow, expecting the house to be empty and allow her to rest.

It wasn't, and a mole family were staring at her in amazement.

She stared at them too. There were two larger ones, likely the parents, one which was slightly smaller, and another baby mole, in the mother's arms. The baby was cute, with it's fuzzy, squished-up face and big brown eyes, and for a second, Cynder wondered what the hell she was thinking. But she mentally shrugged it off, looking at the family still. And they were looking at her, barely a metre away.

The tension was broken only when the baby mole gurgled. Cynder grinned at the sound, and the mother and father smiled, looking down at it. The adolescent mole tugged on his father's arm, however, gesturing to Cynder; her grin faded as they scrutinised her again.

Finally, the father mole spoke. "I know that you are probably here to save the one who is to be executed, and respect your determination to save a friend. I also appreciate the work you did to save us from Malefor. However, I am, or was, in doubt about your motives, given your past, as well as the speech that Cyril gave. Many were convinced by him, as was I, temporarily, that you and the purple dragon were a threat to society." Cynder opened her mouth to argue, but he held up a hand. "However, seeing you on a rescue mission, not to mention smiling at a child, shows me that you are not all bad, at least not as bad as Cyril has been saying. I shall not scream for the guard, but nor shall I allow you to remain here for much longer. Please, depart, and rescue the innocent accused."

Cynder's mouth fell open at the mole's graciousness towards a wanted criminal that he didn't fully trust. She nodded, turned, and headed for the window again. As she reached it, she craned her neck around, and stared the mole in the eye. The mole shivered slightly, but met her gaze.

"Thank you," she said, vanishing into the Shadow and leaping out of the window.

From there, she soared over the courtyard, within which stood the gathering crowd of moles, and the dragon guards. Cyril was standing between the two groups, something glowing faintly gold in the grasp of his claws. She knew it was Sparx.

However, she also knew that she wouldn't last in her shadowy form much longer. _What was the plan again?_

'Spot of green, I let myself be seen,' had been the first line, Spyro's. It was all pretty basic from there. Cynder landed in the space next to Cyril, on his left side; hopefully his weaker side.

Still invisible, she took the time she had to glance over and evaluate Cyril, knowing that someday, she would have to fight him again, alongside Spyro. His entire body, including his eyes, were ice-blue. He had powerful limbs that could probably crush whatever he set his mind to crushing, including her. And a testament to his power over the Ice was the ice which has been permanently formed over his claws, spikes, and tail, to cause additional damage and possibly some sort of instant freezing. It was a tricky and strenuous process, certainly, and one that showed the art of a master of the Ice.

His horns looked like icicles too, but they had always been like that.

Glancing up, she could see that Spyro's cloud was in position.

She shrugged the Shadow off only her mouth, and blasted a shot of poison into the floor below her.

To any observer, it would have looked like naught but a flash of fangs and a splat of green, coming from a strangely darker area of the courtyard; nothing worth shouting about, and something you'd be laughed at if you did. Besides, something worth shouting about was now shooting through the air behind Cyril, and enough moles were shouting about it to render the one shocked mole staring in her direction unheard.

Spyro rocketed over the crowd of guards, inciting gasps from many of the fifty that were there. However, after the gasps, the majority fired an icicle towards the purple dragon, creating a temporary image of an upside-down hailstorm. As the missiles converged on Spyro, Cyril turned, his own massive block shooting from his maw. But the attacks all missed, as the moment Cyril had turned, Spyro blazed upwards into the air in a Comet Dash. Cyril's shot was especially eye-catching; gravity caught it early on, and it smashed into some of the Ice dragons at the rear of their formation. The few missiles that were even close, by virtue of their bad aiming towards the actual target's location, burnt up in the flames.

But the moment Cyril's head was around, Cynder wasn't paying attention to the accidental destruction. She was out of the shadows, lashing out at the back of his paw and snatching up the limp body that fell when he instinctively lost his grip. She got enough of a glance to recognise the face and that was enough before she was in the air, using her Wind ability to its full potential as she let it propel her away from the group of dragons and moles, the former of which were trying to restrain about a hundred of the latter. The disturbance which the moles (led, Cynder noticed, by the mole who had been shouting previously,) had created allowed only a fraction of the guards to risk pursuing the two dragons, as Spyro had matched his course to Cynder's.

The couple were flying in a prearranged direction; towards the valleys. They would be able to take refuge there, hide, and hunt. However, it would be a long flight as tired as the pair were, and the eight dragons following them were likely fresh and raring to go. They quickly passed the city wall, heading outwards.

They were currently above the plains outside Warfang. Spyro edged closer to her in midair even as she forced the wind to propel them along at great speeds. Already they were a way ahead of the majority of the enemy group. She glanced at him, and the wind she was maintaining faltered as she looked at his questioning face. "What?"

Spyro shrugged awkwardly. "I take it... that you've... got him?" Cynder nodded and lifted the paw. Spyro breathed a sigh of relief. "Can I hold him? How is he?"

"I don't know," Cynder answered, slowing down the rush of the air currents. "I just grabbed him out of Cyril's paw and didn't have the time to look."

They slowed to a hover, and Cynder looked down, opening her paw. The dragonfly was there, eyes closed, small chest rising and falling, but something was wrong.

He'd lost his wings.

Cynder almost hadn't noticed, as the glow he emitted made it hard to see them anyway, but the dragonfly had lost some of his light, and her eyes were keen.

Spyro gasped in shock and horror as Cynder just gaped. Surely there was so little that Sparx could do with such a terrible injury. They would have to carry him around wherever he went, whatever they went through. Through every attack and accident. The risks were frightening. So that had been the project Cyril was working on.

Suddenly, as Spyro softly took Sparx into his palm, a speeding form slammed into the purple dragon from behind. He let loose a roar of fury, which made even Cynder wince as she looked back towards where the other dragon had come from. Another was closing in on her, and the other six were spread at varying distances behind the nearest, probably due to difference in speed.

She released a Siren Scream at the top of her voice, but the dragon had halted, grinning. She growled frustratedly. They could probably take out all eight spread out like that, but he was waiting for reinforcements out of the range of most of her attacks, if not all. Cynder roared, frustrated, and rushed towards the dragon closest to her. She grabbed him in a burst of wind and grinned as his look of smug satisfaction was wiped off. Releasing the wind, she extended her foreleg, spun to gain force behind the blow, and the claws tore through the throat of her opponent.

As she came out of the spin, another dragon was shooting towards her. Little else to do, she jabbed her paw straight into him, splayed claws puncturing both eyes.

The dragon plummeted from the sky, screaming all the way, like a wingless dragon.

Or, indeed, dragonfly.

Shaking off the thoughts, Cynder faced her remaining foes. As she did so, Spyro came up behind her, mouth bloody, scratches along his side, but the leg that held Sparx purposefully clear.

In front of them, five dragons grouped, in a line abreast. The couple looked at each other worriedly, and in that moment, the attack came.

All five sent clouds of Ice at them, merging into one attack of massive diameter and power. The two tired dragons countered, Spyro with Fire, Cynder with Shadow Fire. The struggle went back and forth as both sides pumped energy in, but Spyro and Cynder carried on, and held the mass off for long enough to evaporate a cloud of mist around them.

Then, the ice dragons began to fire shards of Ice into the midst of the mist. Cynder winced away when one spurted out right in front of her eyes, heading straight for her, but couldn't evade it entirely, and it grazed her forehead as she ducked. Growling, she retaliated, flapping forwards, spinning vertically and spurting poison from her mouth and her tail. The tail smashed into a dragon, who screamed animalisticly as the venom ate it's way through his blood, reaching his heart and draining his health, to the point where he sunk out of the sky.

Flashes of flame appeared to Cynder's left flank, but she didn't want to rush in and potentially injure Spyro or Sparx, so she banked right. In a few wingbeats she had exited the cloud. She spun, seeing more flashes and hearing cries from within, so she inhaled deeply, and with just about the last of her elemental energy, and released a gale-force blast of Wind.

The mist billowed outwards, revealing four blue dragons, one purple, blinking and looking around, shocked at the loss of cover. Two of Spyro's opponents were facing him, slightly singed, but with blood on their claws. The other two were looking around, confused, but unharmed. However, it was not very long before they whirled and spotted the other two to the sides of the purple dragon.

He himself was in a bad way, it seemed. Scratches to his shoulders, a small wound to his stomach, and a left side which was peppered with tiny, but sharp icicles all leaked blood, in addition to his previous injuries.

Knowing that Spyro had no chance against the four closing in on him, no matter how much he roared at them and lifted his available paw, Cynder rushed in, passing one and causing him to roar, cuffing another around the face, and tackling the last of the three she wanted to distract. Spyro would have to dispose of the remaining one on his own. As she forced her strained limbs to grapple and tear at her enemy, taking him and herself ground-wards, the other two dived after her as Spyro cuffed the last one around the face. It growled and fought back viciously.

The wind whistled around Cynder and her opponent as she forced him lower, away from Spyro. But before Cynder could get any sort of critical blow in on the dragon she'd grabbed, or he on her, claws smashed into her from the side, casting her off the foe. But they didn't get a tight hold, merely scraping her scales, and she lashed around with her head, getting a grip on a foreleg.

However, the piercing bite was wasted as the third of her opponents crashed into her from above. The hit sent her spiralling for a few seconds, and she caught sight of a hill below her before pulling up and casting her eyes towards Cyril's guards.

They were diving towards her in a triangle formation, hoping to catch her at an awkward angle, but she used as much energy as she could summon to beat her wings harder and ascend above their flight path. The one at the head of the formation could not pull up in time to attack her; her tail blade flashed downwards, tearing a line through his back and the base of one of his wings. He fell, as the other two came inwards towards her.

One was met by a head-butt, but she could do nothing against the other as his claws pierced her hide. She grimaced as the pain reached her, but fought through it, snapping back, but unable to do anything, as her head couldn't reach the other dragon(who she could now tell was female)'s position.

The Ice dragon's hind legs grabbed onto one of Cynder's, and her front claws were ready to tear apart the black dragon's wing membranes, when Cynder went into a barrel-roll. The dragon was thrown off, though unharmed, while the other opponent, recovered from the temporary stunning, landed on Cynder's stomach, winding her.

Cynder's tail wrapped around that of her enemy, yanking him off her. She lashed out, tearing his face, but the poison she had tried to put into the strike failed. She was out of elemental energy.

Now, after her moment of shock, both the dragons were in front of her. They lunged, snapped, and did whatever they could to stop her from isolating them and drive her back. With them together, and her tired, there was next to nothing that she could do. She cast a glance up towards Spyro, but he too was struggling, and in her moment of distraction, an icicle plunged into her shoulder.

They had the advantage of elements.

Both of her opponents rose, seeing her weakened, and dived downwards, forcing her towards the ground. There was too little she could do against the height advantage, and was slowly being driven to the floor.

Then, all too close to the ground, they went in for the kill.

Cynder tried to dodge the grab to her foreleg, but it was no use. The other dragon was too fast. As their necks, serpent-like, wove around, trying to strike, the second Ice dragon, who had risen above, went down, going for the base of Cynder's wings. She saw the attack coming, but could do nothing more than writhe in the grip around her leg, trying to bend around enough for her hind legs to come into play and batter the second attacker away. But it was a futile effort, and the female who had a hold of her leg managed to get another leg over Cynder's shoulder, restraining her more.

Then, the other hit. Cynder fought as best she could, attempting to send her backwards-pointing horns into their hides time and again, but they took the blows strongly. And all the while, they pinned her wings to her sides, giving them full control of the flight path.

As they tried to drive her lower, to smash her into the earth, Cynder struggled with renewed vigour. She managed to loosen the grip they had on one wing, but by then she was a matter of metres above the ground. She roared in fury, not an elemental roar, but one that surprised her opponents and installed in her a sense of strength and anger. She would kill any who threatened Spyro, and, by extension of family ties, that meant Sparx too. With another roar and a strike backwards with her head, she unfurled her wings, casting both her opponents off. Cynder spun to look up at them, at their surprised yet still confident expressions, and she self-consciously winced, knowing that as tired as she was, she was outmatched, no matter how viciously and vengefully she fought.

She barely mustered the energy to fold her wings and drop a metre downwards as she avoided a shower of Ice shards, and abruptly unfolding them was even harder. Even a single wingbeat was a challenge now.

Just as they closed in, and she closed her eyes, wishing that she could have had a better chance in a world which didn't throw everything at her, something whistled past her right ear. A second later, something hissed past her left. After the first she heard a strangled choking, after the second a dull thud and a cry of pain.

She opened her eyes.

One of the dragons was falling, the other, flailing, trying to remove the arrow plunged into her shoulder and stay airbourn at the same time.

Soon, she failed at the former and resorted to the latter, turning with a growl and fleeing back to Warfang as Cynder looked around for the source of the arrows.

On the hill she had been driven towards stood Hunter and Meadow, each with bows in their hands. With a sigh of relief Cynder glided down towards them, landing just before them and collapsing. Meadow looked at her with a smile, then a worried expression, which quickly turned to alarm as he glanced upwards. Cynder tried to raise her head, but quickly flinched back when she saw what he'd seen and the bleeding body of an Ice dragon hit the ground a short distance behind the two Cheetahs. It was dead before it hit the ground.

Cynder forced her eyes skywards again, to see a bloodied Spyro slowly spiralling down towards the group. Hunter gazed upwards with concern; Meadow was already taking herbs, supplies and medical equipment from a pouch in preparation of healing the two dragons. After what seemed like mere seconds, but certainly wasn't, Spyro landed beside her and the two collapsed, exhausted, Cynder having time to mutter "Thank you" to Hunter and Meadow before falling unconscious.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you guys so much for your patience, if you're even reading this.** **Sorry that this is so short, but I've been far too busy for my own good, and the first chapter of Progression to Revelation will be up very shortly! So here it is, Merry Christmas! Hope you have fun reading this!**

Chapter 11: Taking Refuge.

**Haven: 1 a place of safety 2 a harbour or small port.**

Two days later, Spyro and Cynder awoke, to find Meadow shaking them and telling them to get up. On the first day, they had forced themselves to reach the valleys and Hunter had returned to the village; now, Hunter was standing behind Meadow, a frown on his face.

Spyro tiredly struggled to his feet, staggering on the leg which had been injured worst in the fight; his back right. "What is it?"

Meadow knelt down to his level, and the purple dragon saw fear and sorrow in the eyes of the cheetah. His tone, when he spoke, was nothing but serious.

"A force of over two hundred Ice dragons reached Avalar two days ago, heading to Warfang from somewhere else. They had orders from Cyril, they said, and they declared that if any help or sanctuary was given to you two, then the whole village would be eradicated. Prowlus accepted the terms, as well as acknowledgeing Cyril as the master of the land; what else could he do, when his people were outnumbered by a powerful and magical race such as yours? As such, when Hunter ran into the village declaring that we had to help you, many of them took it the wrong way."

"I was forced to leave," Hunter interrupted. "Were it not for the efforts of a fellow warrior to find me and inform me of what had happened, I would have no idea why I was shunned."

"Anyway," Meadow continued, "that is all we now know, and we presume that due to the fact that one dragon got away simply injured, Cyril will learn of our involvement. To save his tribe, Prowlus will cast us out and apologise for the actions of those he had no control over. Cyril will leave the matter be, Prowlus will leave us to wander."

Spyro asked, "What can we do?"

Meadow turned to Hunter, who was standing tall, and said, "I don't have a clue myself, so..."

Hunter sighed, tilting his head. "I am as lost for options as you, my friend. My only suggestion is, we leave this area. Any of the cheetah villages around here, of the three spread across this wide range of valleys, may be under the control of Cyril and his Ice dragons. If reported, we won't be able to fight them all off for very long at all. The only way is to move, and to keep moving. Fast."

Cynder raised an eyebrow. "Pretty good for someone who's lost for options."

Hunter smiled, "I try my best."

Later that day, a group of five left that valley. The two cheetahs were on foot, the healer and the warrior. The healer carried the third of the group, an unconscious and wingless dragonfly. Above them, but decidedly low, flew two dragons, black and purple. No conversation passed between them as they crested a rise, just a glance and a nod as they and their land-bourn companions headed forwards, towards a future of doubt and fear.

And Spyro and Cynder would face it, together. Because it was what they did best.

And the betrayal would not go unavenged.


End file.
